Every morning
I drive to school…
Out our driveway
Up our road
And round the corner.
Past blocks of cold little houses
Where fog smudges like ink from a pen
And naked trees stand,
Brown and dead,
To kill the blue sky.
I look over the empty fields
And the machinery
With their layer of frost
I walk past the unused pool and around the corner
I can see the classroom waiting for me.
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