I really like posting these PAD poems. This one is from Day 17.
When I was in fifth grade,
my teacher taught us to listen.
We had to hush impossibly
while she played cassettes of Maya Angelou,
Bill Cosby, even Randy Travis.
She told us to pay attention to the way they sculpted language.
It made me cry every time.
We'd watch from our seats,
and when the words tumbled out
like butterflies bursting from their cocoons
we were quiet
and we listened,
silent but restless,
fluttering our wings.