Students appear as if from nowhere
in the fall
Wearing that eager, but scared look,
And a different energy soon permeates
my neighborhood
Reminding me that another season has
passed
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
of autumn:
Fresh notebooks and new shoes,
Class schedules and syllabi,
And the promise of something learned
From the pages of hitherto unknown
books,
Or the mouths of eccentric professors
Who have dedicated their lives to the
sonnets of Shakespeare,
Or the history of Spanish colonial
architecture,
Or a new English translation of Journey
to the West.
And as the days shorten and the wind
cools,
I vow that someday I will live my life
immersed
In obscure books of literary criticism,
In the yellowing letters between poet
A and author B,
And measure my time by semesters
and sabbaticals
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