Done with grading papers and planning for tomorrow,
I carry my bags outside the classroom. Across the hall
young mothers sit at desks with babies at their feet.
For free they can learn a new language, learn to read and write,
learn to raise their children in a world of machines.

Trees shade the breezeway, and the bright field sighs.
Beyond the playground fence, goats pause in their grazing
and lift their heads to gauge the sun’s position 
relative to a distant horizon. Nighthawks call.
Long shadows guide me home.