A Raincheck for Youth

At convocation we walked the Lawn
where we would graduate four years later.
We dressed our best, united as a class,
as our excitement grew even greater.

I moved down the aisle to find a space
and almost sat on Jefferson’s face!
A quarter in one hand, a pledge in the other,
neither given nor accepted, I swore on my honor.

From the night came the cries of people at the Corner
yet I was sometimes Clem, and mostly a woman of Alder.
Sitting by the window I’d watch the rising of the moon
with the glass pressed softly against my shoulder.

Was it the dining hall today? Unlimited buffet!
Yet was that really fish, or a chicken fillet?
Time passed slow, and I eventually reached a Crossroads,
but what I didn’t expect was for it to be full of burritos.

For more than a year my feet haven’t touched Grounds.
I see no Rotunda and only hear computer sounds.
My link to the community is a small screen.
This is how I’ve spent the age of nineteen.

At football games, we put our arms
around the shoulders of strangers.
Now we sing and we finally know
it’s not the Good Ol’ Song that’s old
but days of auld lang syne.