He climbed up through history once buried,
petrified layers of an ancient sea,
his undeterred energy conquered all
eighty feet with only his hands
and untried will as he grappled with a tower
standing against wind owned plains
while our teacher, his veins bulging
through skin settling comfortably into age
and full of a stronger vintage, waited
with his field worn boot propped on a fallen bolder,
waited for what he knew this boy would find at the top,
what would, cackling in his ear, pop his bravado,
alert him to his place in the world,
and when it was time, the man
stepped forward, slapped billows of fine chalk powder
from his faded jeans, adjusted his hat, looked straight up
at the boy clutching the top
of a precarious table,
and then calmly, soothingly,
talked him down.
~ Jamie Lynn Heller
Jamie Lynn Heller writes: I have two young girls, the perfect spouse, a high school counseling career I love, and I get to write. It’s a productive day when I can squeeze in a half hour or so to devote to poetry. Publications: Prairie Schooner, Main Street Rag, Noctua Review, Flint Hills Review, I-70 review, Avocet, Little Balkans Review, and others.
First published by Wilderness House Literary Review Summer 2012
The Coop: A Poetry Cooperative 