do you carry the words around

i just finished grading my "in search of nature" class's second papers. i have to say, i was quite impressed, quite happy with them. almost all of the papers were as good as most papers i ever read. some of the papers were good enough that i'd like to publish them, perhaps on here if nowhere else. they were asked to write a story or narrative about finding nature in their lives, whether in their everyday lives, or in some special circumstance.

as always, grading is tiring and draining for me, but these papers were great, concisely recounting walks and bike rides, their work and play, their histories and futures, all the while telling me how they could find nature wherever they looked, if they just looked hard enough. some found this assignment transformative, becoming more aware of their surroundings and the importance of nature in their lives (i think it was probably a more valuable way of engaging this issue than telling them about the trillions of dollars that ecosystems provide in "services"). a few even reacted by saying that thinking about the nature in their everyday lives bothered them, because the nature they rarely experience is what needs the most protection and conservation. i couldn't agree more.

in the end, i am often writing here that grading drains me, which it does. but today, tonight that is, i wanted to say that grading papers can be an amazing experience. but it takes having very good students who engage with the topic and try hard to write interesting and personal stories about their lives. i applaud my students, not only in this class, but also in my other two classes--they are great groups, and good people.

and so tonight, i leave final preparations for tomorrow's teaching until the morning, though i do know what we'll be doing in class then. and i read a new poem titled "cardinal cardinal" by stephen dunn. and i feel good. sore from a weekend of pushing my body, but good. and billy corgan's voice comes across my computer's speakers, singing, "a summer storm graces all of me," and i can't help but feel like this is a special moment in my life, sitting here in the basement, awaiting a winter storm, expected arrival: wednesday. perhaps it's just because winter is coming that i am now listening to the kind of soft and lowkey music that i often turn to this time of year. maybe so. and maybe the bird stealing bread is just a bright red bird taking a seed back to the female in her quiet beauty, and i wish i could watch "the delicacy with which she accepts it."

bird stealing bread by iron and wine

tell me, baby, tell me
are you still on the stoop
watching the windows close?
i've not seen you lately
on the street by the beach
or places we used to go

i've a picture of you
on our favorite day
by the seaside
there's a bird stealing bread
that i brought
out from under my nose

tell me, baby, tell me
does his company make
light of a rainy day?
how i've missed you lately
and the way we would speak
and all that we wouldn't say

do his hands in your hair
feel a lot like a thing
you believe in
or a bit like a bird
stealing bread out from under your nose?

tell me, baby, tell me
do you carry the words
around like a key or change?
i've been thinking lately
of a night on the stoop
and all that we wouldn't say

if i see you again
on the street by the beach
in the evening
will you fly like a bird
stealing bread out from under my nose?