Senses

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Senses

At recess— 
 
eyes 
tilted to the sky, searching—
 
noses, 
dripping faucets, 
leaks of Autumn’s chill— 
 
tongues,
upward curls,
savoring the flow—
 
ears,
flared petals
quivering for broadcast— 
 
hands, 
cupped above brows,
are visors against
the risen sun.

High overhead 
we see 
the perfect V 
of the silvery geese 
sliding south. 

Murmured whispers
of delight and wonder
escape our lips.
 
Back inside,
numb soldiers at our desks,
she admonishes us
to pay close attention
to her blackboard 
writing.

“Please notice how 
the connected letters flow 
to form and distinguish 
the letter v from
the letter r.”

We nod in unison, 
understanding much more. 

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