Untitled Poem
February 28, 2003

There are mornings when I am walking to school, and the air is so crisp, the hint of pine in the air from the trees, and the sun is low but you can tell it is morning light, the houses along the road light up due to the sunshine, and the tops of the trees that have stood for generations are standing even taller with the light.

The same black ford explorer passes, with the same woman, with her daughter along the road, and the same ford escort, with the same man, with his son that passes me as well, straight ahead of me the dorm which I lived in for two years is on a hill shining in the light and the light reflects off the windows, and since I have lived there for two years, I know how orange that morning light is from the inside, two dogs are playing in a yard, one black, one golden brown, sometimes they bark at me, sometimes the just play.

There is a man that warms up his truck and scrapes the ice off, I look to smile but he never looks, a bus passes me on the right, then I cross the street, there is a piece of garbage that has laid in the same spot all quarter long only ten feet away from a trash can and I have been meaning to pick it up everyday, I pass two day cares on my left, underneath rows of trees I walk, bare now, but I remember how golden yellow they were only months ago, the same green dodge intrepid is parked in roughly the same space everyday, and if you look close enough the same cars are parked in roughly the same places from day to day.

I cross the street again and there is a brick path that leads up a slight hill to a building, I pass a woman who is smoking but never fails to smile, I walk through the building, there is the sound of coffee being ground and you can smell the aroma from the espresso, an older woman named Shirley and a younger girl named Emily work the stand together, sometimes they smile as I pass and sometimes they don't, the morning light reflects off the tile floors and bounces off the light gray marble along the walls, the breeze way leaving the building is always warm because there is a heater, I open the door and I leave the building, there is a flag pole with the US flag and the State flag, sometimes it is hanging high, sometimes it is half staff, but I am always glad it flies.

I can see my work only steps away, I look down the pathway to my right and I can see students walking, there is a mid '70s black Chevy nova parked in eye sight of my building but it is in a different spot everyday but always near, I walk through the doors of my building and I look to the right and the same two girls are manning their stations, sometimes they glance up sometimes they don't, I pick up the daily event guide called the 'focus' which I never read and I walk to the office on my left. This only takes me 15 minutes to do, but by far it is the best 15 minutes of the day. There is this peace, this calm, where I know not matter how hectic life can be, no matter how hard classes can get, not matter how people are being dumb to me, it is on these mornings when I have everything figured out and I know no matter what, I will be fine.