Highschool.
When the air crisps
And cleanses your lungs
And the souls of green leaves
Melt to the ground in a fury
Of something other than green.
The last year here, the beginning of the end.
Hind’s sight is better than yours;
You just don’t have it yet.
So the sweaty summer knowledge,
The advice from Grandma’s wrinkles,
The power from Mum’s charge...
All sift into the crispy oxygen.
Because there she is.
You wish you could waft into a room
And have everyone see you.
You wish a curl of your hairs
Would bring them to your waiting feet.
You trade in your summer skin and sweaty knowledge
To have one last shot at being her.
A semester skids in your rear-view mirror.
You passed- but guess what’s 10 km ahead?
Her, always ahead, always there.
No matter how fast you pound
The painted pavement.
Your one last shot is cleaved in two.
What’s one more half?
You never know.
But the chill of snow snakes down your collar
And melts like salty sweat and there it is:
Grandma’s wrinkles.
Mother’s charge.
Sweaty, blessed Hind’s sight.
Before her.
Back at crispy air and leaves’ souls.
The winter leaves, a raucous lion,
Betraying the lamb, but not
Your salty resolve, your 20/20.
One month left and you’re
Pounding the pulsing pavement
To reach you before the time is up.
You are just ahead (10 km).
This time your rusty car is
Taking you there.
It’s So hot but the sweat just
Reminds you, and the salt
Rejuvenates your soul.
Slip into your summer skin
And steal the zest of the
Steaming sun because
The wrinkles and charge
Were right all along.
You don’t need to trade anything.
A sizzling pan of fried people
Makes for the school gym.
The pavement ends here, no more pounding.
You’ve reached destination you
And now the gravel road yawns on before you:
A pitted unknown that guarantees sweat.
College.
When the crisp air Steeps your lungs
And there will be more hers,
But you can cling to wrinkles
And sweat and 20/20 vision
As you move forward from destination you.
