She dangles her pointy, ultra white fingers
Into the water, never fully submerging any
Body part for fear of losing herself
To a moment, her black rimmed sunglasses
The only reminder she is in the Oklahoma sun.
Her bowed back and curved smile
Glimpse from behind a thick, dark curtain
Of uncertainty. Four Seasons pushes its way out
From the indoor vinyl record player,
A humming of the air conditioner competing
Against a lawn mower’s muffled spin.
Hushed voices fill the crowded classroom
As high pitched murmurs await
The arrival of the sweat browed professor.
Bare knees barely touch as the whispers
Of the September heat hint at crunchy grass.
Fall is just her beginning, her first
Season of non-childhood, first choices.