A Poem About School...

Mindscapes

That I daydream doesn't mean I'm wasting time,
neither yours nor mine.

That my eyes seem distant as you scrawl upon the board
is true, but do you ever wonder what those eyes do gaze upon?

If, on a cloudy day, I seem displaced as you focus on gerunds and nouns
is probably true enough, and my conjunctions are not a pretty sight.

Looking beyond the chalkboad through windows closed
and stuffy, I get glimpses of billowing new mountain clouds.

And soon I'm walking through those canyons high,
searching for the words to bring my awe of
mindscapes seen afar.

Sorry for that! But no harm meant, of course;
though I've been captured by the muse
and stolen from beneath your very eyes.

I'm not here, but there on those distant hills,
looking out on purple vales, glassy emerald seas,
multiple red moons, rainbow planetary rings.

I don't hate your gerunds, nor those squiggly lines you
scrawl with chalk, or those piping sounds you make and
slaps of rules down on desks to pull me back to ground.

I shudder some, crashed down to earth
anchored once again
landlocked, prisoner, so it seems to me.

You ask me what I've learned today, I stutter in return,
embarassed at the laughter of the class,
my face turns red, my hands upturned
I haven heard a word you said . . .

All right, you've got me there. I'll see you after school,
to write a thousand times - "I'll pay attention while in class."

You turn, dismayed, and try again to verbalize your charts and diagrams,
completely unaware of where I've been and what I've seen.

The sun breaks out from behind a cloud, scattering rays across the sky,
opening new pathways to the stars.

Ah ha! Again the wanderer's call,
Goodbye to all, I'm off once more, I think I'll be back soon,
But then again . . . maybe I won't . . .


by Rob White (dit LeBlanc) Mountain Laurel Sudbury