I Sing the Poem “Nantucket”

Poetry by Michael Carrino

I sing the poem “Nantucket” to myself as if in a waking sleep
and the children far out on the slight hillside sing along

Through the high windows of my classroom I can see them
rush in circles free and content as some might ever be

One night soon it will snow    blanket the brown grass deep
become true winter and they will cherish it

My students are reading silently about anything they are willing
to read   turtle   bird   wagon   doll

rock   bell   shard of glass   pocket watch found in the attic
how long birchwood will keep you warm

Now I see her   the teacher   the one who guides her children
outside every morning   The teacher

I want to speak with about anything   breathe the wood smoke
on her wool coat   her long curling hair

In a moment I will   beyond any fevered dream   delight
my students with a startling recess

They will all imagine me gone sweetly crazy

Michael Carrino is a retired English lecturer at SUNY Plattsburgh, New York, where he was co-editor and poetry editor of the Saranac Review. His publications include ten books of poetry, the most recent Natural Light (Kelsay Books), and The Scent of Some Lost Pleasure (Conestoga Zen 3 Anthology).