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-
“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