Senses

Senses

At recess— 

eyes 
tilted to the sky—

noses, 
leaky of Autumn’s chill— 

tongues,
upward curls—

ears,
flared petals— 

hands, 
cupped,

visors against
the blinding sun.

High overhead 
we see

a rare view,

the perfect V 
of the silvery geese 

sliding south. 

Murmured whispers
of delight and wonder
escape our lips.

Back inside,
obedient at our desks,
she admonishes us

to pay close attention
to her chalked 
blackboard writing.

“Please notice how 
the connected letters flow 
to form and distinguish 

the letter v from
the letter r.”

We nod in unison,

seeing, 
hearing,
and knowing 

much more.

. . . j  

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