Summer fled this reality

Too content with leisure’s spent

In pools, the emptied schools, the desolate hallways

But I

I returned happily

To the back breaking work

I lugged my books, despite the looks, up stairs, across lawn, through abandoned parking lots with blinking lights; I carried on, toward dawn

Toward the me that I was making

I am happy when I know my heart is happy

When I’m writing furiously

Creating artwork with my words

Masterpieces, rarities, NOT collectibles

Not I in the uniform box

Not I on the path most often traveled

I, doing the backbreaking work

A slave to my ambitions

A happy slave, happy to serve

Desperate to prove my heart correct

In this world of heads

Is hard.

Is a desperate endeavor

I travel alone

I lug my books in and out of classrooms

And no one holds the door

But I carry on

Fingers crossed I make a difference

Hoping I’m the first domino to kick off this human parade of scholars

That when I get there

They will say “Welcome home! Oh, how we have missed you!”

Digging into our journals

Marking our texts

Like cogs in succession we will fall into place

An inspired machine

Unlike summer

Who fled this reality

Too content with leisure’s spent

In pools, the emptied schools, the desolate hallways

But WE

WE will return happily

To the back breaking work