 |
| Circa 2012 |
My
shoulders are pinched, uptight: not a finger pinch, something with more
pressure per square inch, something like a vice or a blunt hammered nail.
Over
the day it distends from scrunch to pain.
I drive to work and I think: I
won't manage this.
Only
when I get there and set the roof mounted heaters going in a sorry attempt to
warm the floor, and I'm lugging kick pads, and my flask of coffee sits on a
chair, even before my students arrive, thought has nothing to do with it, this
is a burst of spirit: All the world's a stage.
Across the cold wood I tread, bold, sure
of my character.
 |
| Circa 2011: didn't have my camera at work today. Sorry about my fangy teeth. |
Lovely photo of you among laughers. If "All the world's a stage", these are the expressions of those who get to operate the trap doors. Such delightful mischief.
ReplyDeleteDelightful mischief is my favourite kind!
ReplyDeleteYou all look so happy!
ReplyDeleteI love that burst of spirit, Lily. Leave it to you, my friend.
Almost ran out of burst... but sometimes the more you give, the more you find you have :-)
ReplyDeleteWe were happy- can't remember what I was saying here though!