On Leaving the Classroom (A Poem)

It’s the in-betweens--

Those transformations that exist

Between listening and hearing,

Between pencil and paper,

Between thinking and knowing

Between “I wonder...”

And everything that comes after it.

It’s atmosphere and magic.

It’s those moments I prepare to put on a bookshelf

I haven’t yet built.

I’m not ready.

I never will be.

But I look around

And see

I’ve been collecting hammers and nails,

Protractors and measuring tape,

Saws and sandpaper

For years now.

I am the wood.

I always will be.