By Dana Shahar Meyer

My hands brush my sides 
            as my arms 
                        swing 
                        forward and backward 
            as I amble down the hallway. 
The linoleum smiles up at me, its 
shining surface only slightly scuffed 
from shuffling shoes 
traversing it the day through. 

Right then, only my shoes quietly clip and 
echo 
because the corridor is empty. 
But the clips serve as a backtrack 
of sorts 
for the vignettes 
           of activity 
           that each classroom contains.
 
Sound bites 
           of lecture, 
           of inquiry, 
           of activity, 
zig zag out of each room like bolts, 
only tangible for the moments my 
shoe soles 
         line up 
         with their door frames. 
They whip by like 
         glowing golden windows 
         on a night train 
                   speeding by. 
I take that daily walk 
down the corridor, 
and each day it becomes less empty, more vividly 
punctuated and bedazzled
with the bubbling, 
               sparking, 
              simmering 
                    sounds of learning. 

Warm and vibrant vignettes swell and ebb: of a 
                       day well spent, 
           of a moment immersed 
                        in wonder, 
                        in investigation. 

And all the while 
my shoes clip happily by, 
humbled to aurally witness 
such precious moments.