46 more school days

Forty-six more
school days:

Seniors working on their last stages
of morphing
from chrysalis
to butterfly,

Each one struggling
to free themselves
from the tight
grip
of childhood.

I watch them turn and twist,
unable to assist
except for the occasional
burst
of
encouragement.

The requirements for all involved
are sealed tight
in individual scrolls

held close
and made ragged
by birth

Beacon

As I turned toward the window
in the darkest part of night,
something familiar
pushed through my dreamswept mind~

The moon, shy at first
behind fleeting clouds,
drew my attention
and
patiently shone,
midcycle,
partially molting
(it seemed to me)
as I focused my eyes.

A question leapt to my heart,
for this moon
gave comfort~
I'd awoken only minutes before, feeling that kind of fear
only known fully at night.
I felt the question
without really understanding it,

And the moon answered,
"Just wait."

As I lay there in bed,
still hoping for more,
the clouds once again
hid
that light.
Moments passed
and then it returned
in lopsided glory~

an imperfect beacon.