I would like a day of wonder,
a minute of joy,
an instant of yes

when that kid with the lopsided grin
(sitting in the back of the class
muttering under his breath)
suddenly appreciates the beauty and balance
in an algebraic equation

when the girl with the curly hair
(who only wants it straight
and despairs over the latest blemish)
is blown away
seeing herself in relation to the entire universe

when the boy who never volunteers
(for fear that he’ll stammer
and everyone will laugh)
writes a story so brilliant
it stuns the class to silence

when students, hanging on every word,
(thrilled with the composition we call earth,
in awe of how intricately all the pieces fit together)
forget themselves
(for a brief moment in time)
and start singing with the stars.

I would like a celebratory second,
but I worry
that wonder died in fourth grade.

Somehow hope keeps me coming back
(wading through miry angst)
searching for the spark
that will ignite a fire.

I would like a day of wonder,
a minute of joy,
an instant of yes.