Ides In Ivy
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Oh, these trees, arms reaching as they
did then, but even wiser ... perhaps I as
well have learned another thing-or-two
in the eons since I yet stood here ...
The years have bent their backs, twisted
their limbs, but they are still resplendent -
still speaking to me softly, "You are yet
very welcome here, you are protected ...
"You are shrouded, kept and held close,
fear not" ... the stretching walk up to the
ivy-cloaked bricks like a long, withered
tongue of consideration and solicitude ...
Meant to give those entering the time
to absorb the exalted importance of those
walls ... the old, stately windows but the
many eyes of an ancient beast of grandeur ...
A marvelous monster of higher learning
and acumen ... they all still speak deeply
to my core, though those ages hence we
were far fewer, a school of only four years ..
We were such a chosen few - less than
a hundred, whole ... our world so much
simpler then, the privilege far weightier,
the responsibility and focus and honor ...
Yes, HONOR, far, far more intense to a
young, capricious lad such as I was then.
So different now, yet so much the same!
The buildings, the grassy yards, library ...
Still the same, but the dorms, gone now
with the striving to stay concomitant and
competitive ... "commuter" students these
days, and all the grades covered, from K-12 ...
But these trees, oh, they know me well,
they remember my tow-head shyness
and reserve, my endless comings-and-
goings, and they still speak to me ...
With the same voice of wisdom: "Do
great things!" they say, "Live a life to
be proud of! Live abundantly! Make
yourself due our wisdom and shelter!
"Tread not these grounds and grasses
in apathy and foolish care! Listen to
the heart of learning, walk these halls
seeking the joys of accomplishment ...
"Let not our many leaves fall to their
deaths in witness of mediocrity! Live
and love and LEARN with PASSION!"
Do I not hear their poignant echo ...
Now, as I stand amidst the summer
green? Oh, call to me again! How I
long for those days of wild wonder
and struggle and callow puerility ...
To live is to fight and grow and soak
deep in the pains of erudition! Those
were the most difficult days of my
life, yet I yearn for them hungrily ...
Oh, to be such a young fool again ...
to have these crippled, old oaks wrap
their boughs around me each day ...
to have this wise, beastly old building
Swallow me in its receipt ... Oh, to be
that young, scraggly, foolish lad, but
to know how exceedingly blessed I was
to be on such sacrosanct ground ...
Such wonderfully cared-for, welcoming,
hallowed old ground ... venerated, sweet.
How inordinately and poignantly content I
am to be here again ... 'midst its aged ivy ...
And its embrace of oaken arms.
~ 9th Place ~ in the "Exalted Words" Poetry Contest, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judge & Sponsor.
* These were all favorite words of mine, and I used them here for flow and feeling and context - to create the right painting with the best colors, you might say ... words should never be used for their own sake, (or the sake of sounding profound), but rather to create a beautiful picture in the reader's mind and heart. *
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2020
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