It Rained Today
That fuzzy haired teacher stood before us.
His fist elegantly pressed into his side.
Asking big questions, he paused.
Pressing his fingers to his forehead,
Finally he addressed us;
Talk to somebody, he said,
Ask them what happiness is, he said.
Tap - tap - tap my nails on the desktop.
Awkwardly fast, I turned, avoiding eye contact to my right,
Blurted - so what's happiness!
Smiling almost too big.
He slouched over himself, his foot against the desk,
Leaning back like a dare devil.
Casually tossing his head back and his open palm up in the air.
'I have no f*cking idea', he could have been sighing.
Yeah, me either.
Making his way back to the front of the room,
The professor who dresses like part of a stage crew,
He said, ask them where happiness comes from.
So again, a nervous tick type turn.
'Well, where do you think it comes from? '
He sat forward, looked right at me,
He smiled, 'I don't know man.
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Comments about this poem (It Rained Today by Emily Beck )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(August 19, 1902 – May 19, 1971)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
William Carlos Williams
(17 September 1883 – 4 March 1963)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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