Philosophy Class

Freshman philosophy student
Standing before me after class
Says his thoughts go off in wild directions
When he tries to explain his way through one of my questions.
He hasn't the skill -- and half-doubts the possibility of it -- to tie
Much of a knot
Or to weave the colored strands into coherence.
In his eyes I see the facade of frustration about this.
Under that: wonderment,
And the birthing of a brand new baby hope.
We old professors who have midwifed a thousand such
Can still gasp.

Gainesville, 2009.03.31

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