Ode To a Retiring Master
As each squall breaks the random motion starts
Leaves twigs and dust in chaos whirl and skitter
Yet at its core remains a still calm heart
The land shall be restored to a pristine glitter
But this metaphor denies a truth thereon
That neath that placid heart there is motion frantic
As vigorous paddling of the gliding swan
Not still, though cool and smoothing surface antic
Thus these images of one who many a year
Maintained a calm at eye of every storm
Was anchor to this college barque sans peer
Then held its course to waters clear and warm
16 September 2019
Poem in exactly 100 words
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