A bow-tied teacher fills his chair,
with thoughtful remarks
about students now and gone.
One by thirty they filled class air
with wild ribbed story arcs
strewing A’s and B’s and tones.
Is there something sweeter to
a parent’s ear
than that their child
will be missed
Sitting for one final do
we drop a tear
and half stall awhile
thinking back to our own
missing not at all
the painful and awkward then.
Against the now full gift of line
filling full tall
poems and prose of pen.
Thank you bow-tied builder of minds
young though they are, your heart
and imagination have given them new homes
in the wilderness cabins of their own.