Encountering With A Poetry Course's Professor
I suddenly feel naked under his first glance
As if he can read me like with his books
But I also realize by this deja-vu
There are vistas of my world that he
has yet to feel and view
Like a garden with flowers and faunna and ferns
Some are named, others as yet to be
He can glimpse my beauty with his enthusiasm
with the discipline of a matured poet
and the humoured heart of an artistic scholar.
I know he is to me as with all of his students
Patiently anticipates with trained caution
to discover, uncover, mine, excavate and hold
a spring to summer to autumn and winter
: A flower among flowers in his garden well tended
under the shades of oaks and elms and cottonwoods
and wonderful evergreens, cactuses, and palms:
He puts my poem and other students'
into his briefcase and snappes its top;
walks out of the classroom
whistling a song with an edge of tried hope
As if encountering with the sound of psalms!
...I, too, anticipate a year of rhyme and rhythm,
and the resistance against them
for the sake of youthful arrogance still fresh.
