Glade of spirits- origin myth in the eyes of
My classroom,
And there are eyes, dark brown and dark blue
And all over my classroom,
Trying to discover things, skateboarding,
And trying to make sure everything turns out
Alright-
And I am not trying to control this menagerie:
I am just trying to make sure that it
Is beautiful,
While the children of your father skip down
The path underneath of which the
Airplanes fly,
And beside of which the cypress trees grow,
And the ocean’s waves leap and frolic;
This is for them,
And for your children that will disappear into
School tomorrow,
As I try to impress you anonymously,
As I just try to survive down the river that is
Too wide to dream across
Without waking up and realizing the mistakes
That happen altogether through its wide
And beatific course.
Robert Rorabeck
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/without-waking-up/
