ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS
Sequence: 4
POEM AS IT HAPPENS
rain gets to fill the spaces used
by weather
snow is allowed to melt
by the air's rising temperature
a hillslope accepts some rain
and sends the rest away
I see a sapling still hanging on to its brown leaves
in the middle of winter
is it me
now I must stop and think
a pleasure not to know
what is next
or where to end
but only how to divide
and multiply the moments
I was eight when I learned division
I loved my teacher Mrs. Fry
I drew a portrait and gave it to her