On Teaching the Young – Yvor Winters
Grown middle-aged, I teach
my children
the art of being grown.
Showing my
son the monotony in shaving,
my daughter
hears about the mind
of boys her
age, the ones with spiked hair
and poor
manners.
As time
wraps its invisible coils
around the
nape of my wrinkled neck,
I worry that
I have too much left to teach,
Never enough
time to teach it all.
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