Teacher Poem by Day Williams

Morning snow falls,

Motors chug-chug:

He rises from his bed

And brushes his teeth,

bare feet cold on the hardwood floor.

Books underarm,

his students scuffle and shuffle

through the drifts

to the schoolhouse

where icicles grow on eaves.

He reads in Jeremiah,

drinks coffee,

prepares the lesson plan,

and pulls on his boots.

Each day

he penetrates

innocent eyes, And desires those eyes

to grow deep

and yet retain

their wide wonder.

He imparts and gains

knowledge and feeling in equal measure

to three grades.

They love his love of Shakespeare

and Twain,

His stories from the northern woods

And his jokes about the Presidents;

They revel in his love of God and language,

His leather voice

cracking

on gray afternoons...