A Day`s Work

How does one period of time, a small span of eight swift-flowing hours, contain such a multitude that I feel more than a week has passed within a single day?

Arriving home from work today, I paused outside my house… looking upon how the dazzling late afternoon Sunlight played on the fallen leaves of brown and gold. Hesitating for only a moment, a sweeping charge of synapse brought forth a plenoptic explosion of the millionfold images and voices of this ephemeral day. It threatened to overwhelm me, had I not the rigid logical bearings which undergird my conscious mind – guiding my tottering steps to the front door, and finding for me a place to rest… a place to contemplate these things in the soft bosom of my dearest ones.

Demonstrating that yesterday`s labor was no aberration, today was draining – I only bother to sit at this desk and recollect these moments out of sheer obstinance for completion, for I would rather be stretched out upon the soft carpet of my front hall as Gaelynn & Israel crawl all over my legs and shoulders… verily, I have missed them with an ache.

However, to capture some pittance of today`s treasures…

One of my more physically handicapped students wrote a poem for me today, and he asked me to keep it a secret (from the other students) for no more surreptitious a reason than that he is somewhat shy about expressing himself.

We had discussed poetry this morning during the “English & Literature” hour, and he seemed particularly interested in how I portrayed the medium of poetry as a powerful means by which one could bring something internal outward into the external… I told them that poetry is a way of dancing, but by using one`s language rather than one`s body. A comparison that I knew would provoke them (and hopefully the “good” kind of provocation), especially those with physical impairments.

His words speak volumes to me, and this was but a transient moment amongst many.


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