Friday, August 23, 2013

20130823.1712

The day is done.
The week is done.
The stacks of papers are graded.
The email is answered.
The students are either satisfied
Or they do not care,
And I am well off either way.

I am the last one in the building,
I think.
I hear nobody else.
No other conversations echo through the halls.

There is something special
In being the only one in the building,
Writing as a Friday moves toward evening
And people move to go
Out
On the town
To see one another
To enjoy themselves
To enjoy each other
And maybe it is depressing that I do not

Or maybe it means that I already have what I need
That I need not go out from myself to find something worthwhile
That I am in such possession of myself that I can focus on
What needs doing.

There is always more that needs doing.

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