Keeping On

I keep coming back to that memory--
the neutral walls, the white desks,
the chairs filled with intermittently buzzing students
just waiting for class to begin,
and then,
you coming, your books slipping,
you muttering something
as you slapped them back on the table
and the covert, nervous, almost pleased thrill
running through the ranks--ohhh.
We watched, but in the span of a breath, it was over.
Class began with a smile and followed
the established rhythms of exploration and hope.
Do the next thing. Do the next thing. Do the next thing.
But I still wonder how you did it.