Students appear as if from nowhere
in the fall
Wearing that eager, but scared look,
And a different energy soon permeates
Reminding me that another season has
And asking, why am I not in school?
Some people mark the passing of time
on January 1,
But for me it is the first crisp day
Fresh notebooks and new shoes,
Class schedules and syllabi,
And the promise of something learned
From the pages of hitherto unknown
Or the mouths of eccentric professors
Who have dedicated their lives to the
sonnets of Shakespeare,
Or the history of Spanish colonial
Or a new English translation of Journey
to the West.
And as the days shorten and the wind
I vow that someday I will live my life
In obscure books of literary criticism,
In the yellowing letters between poet
A and author B,
And measure my time by semesters
And the stacks of papers to grade.
**Hey, why are you sitting around reading blogs? Go take a class!
>> The University of Chicago Graham School of General Studies
>> Columbia College Center for Book & Paper Arts
>> Northwestern University School of Continuing Studies