Assembly
The wind blows cold, unrelenting as we enter,
my daughter’s hand tightly in mine.
Her face erupts in the wonder of a little
mind expanding. This is her school.
Artwork is pointed out on moveable
fabric classroom walls.
My coat will not fit into her locker.
She runs heedless to her friends, leaving
me standing in the smell of Elmer’s glue
and the cleaning solution that all schools use on the floor.
I walk alone in to the empty gym, feel
the presence of promise, take my seat on the
old wooden bleachers. Children file in,
single file, smiling in good clothes. Where will
I be, years from now? Make your choices, children,
while they are easy.
3/5/98
Jeff Davis