for my teachers, who have given me so much.
You used to frighten me.
You laugh now, and so do I--
But it really is the truth.
The sign in your window,
The age-old rumors of your method of waking sleeping giants--
And I was such a little fish.
But I was good at what you love.
Perhaps you knew of me
From teachers' table stories
I know she used to tell
You knew of my ode to a basketball game through your neighbor
And you lunched with half my heredity.
But you never said a word.
You just showed me an ancient path,
Trod by countless feet before
And influenced my journey by your joy.
And when I got your jokes first you would laugh with me at the rest
And when I got Woolf and Wordsworth last,
You didn't laugh--
You just pointed to the footprints.
They led me to wonder.
And when I finally, finally found
My own path, with no footprints,
You smiled again and turned me in the right direction--
And when the footprints were my own,
You were more excited than even I
Because I loved the journey
And you knew all along.
