Construction paper turkeys
with primary-colored tail feathers
in the shape of our second-grade hands
roosted on the cork above the chalkboard.
All my work done,
I went to the bookshelves
in the back of the classroom,
passed by desks
of other seven-year-olds
suppressing itches and questions—
stilled to silence by the threat of the work at hand.
The radiator knocked comfortingly
below the row of frost-framed windows.
What if I touched my tongue to the glass?
Would it taste like a snowflake?
Would I reach the cold freedom on the other side
where there were leaves to pile and dive into
and red berries on the dogwoods to pick?
The radiator hummed.
Warmth calmed the call to wild things.
For a moment
I thought I heard a turkey gobble.
Construction paper feathers nodded.
A mind awake
wants to dream.
I reached for the bound freedom at hand.
Back at my desk,
still time to open a world
Secretly disappear.
Photo by sydney Rae on Unsplash
Radiance Within 