Indian-Give Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Some random announcement from
The soft and middle of the usual day—
Allowing light to pass through
Like a ghost underneath an airplane:
Maybe there will be a fire-drill,
Maybe it will rain—
And the students will eventually light out
To come again tomorrow-
Following their own shadows successfully:
It is what we reward them to do—
Pretty pictures in a window less classroom—
And gold fish in the suburban estuaries
Of a glass menagerie:
Until the same footsteps drain the sunlight's
Apiary around the headstones,
And the heavens dome their cathedral
As the elements Indian-give us our names.