Prompt Post :: “Teacher”

Write about your favorite teacher.

I have watched his shoulders settle in,

tilted toward me like a leaf reaching for the sun,

his voice crumbled cinnamon,

low and soft-

directing me:

“Come here and see this.”

The essence of him is a rainbow oil slick

and a beaten path through sycamores

and zig-zag-zig-zag scars on his face

and cupped hands filled with river water.

A steady heartbeat under determined flesh

crafted in Indian corn brown

and grease stained knuckles.

Rare is the man who battles demons in silence;

cherished is the man who loves loudly.

©️ Pearl Bayou

📷 : Brianna Harmon/Brian Harmon

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