Nine and a slash That's how assignments in a new school year start The Nine Slash is transitory, the summer faded but not yet gone The buzz around the schools as two-a-days overtake the fields And the quiet of our neighborhood in the offseason ends As buses return and students shuffle into classrooms. I am in that groove of time, the school day The mid-afternoon endings. And yet, the pressure doesn't weigh on me. I don't need to gear up for class Or follow the tolling bells indicating lunch, or next period, Or the blessed end of the day when school work fell away And I could do as I pleased The Nine Slash means new backpacks and Nikes Rain wetting the crackled lawns, cool sweeping baked pavement. The Nine Slash is apples in season, grapes plucked, twin towers In a bright blue day breaking the malaise of a nation Returning to routine, to pick-ups and drop-offs And grades to earn, and running after As. I am glad to be mostly free of the Nine Slash days Grateful I don't go elsewhere for six hours And I feel for the girl I send out everyday. Though our lot was to learn and now its hers And September is a gentle return, all things considered, A soft realignment as the harvest crashes toward winter.
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This is exactly the way I feel when the school year begins. Thanks for setting it to poem.
Love this so much, Jordan! Chewing on that last line- both the soft realignment and the harvest crashing toward winter. So good!