Friday, January 4, 2013


I am given to such nostalgia,
on a snowy morning,
at the start of a semester.

One year, not too far away,
some Spring semester
will be my last.

I will put on these boots,
and this old hat,
and I will make final trudges.

Snow on a campus makes me happy.

Everyone likes the real Spring,
with blooming and crickets
and frisbee-flingers.

Me, I like the cold,
when students hurtle themselves indoors,
hats and gloves flying.

Where else to go?
Might as well stay here
with old Dick Tingle.

I hope the snow remains
all weekend long,
freezing the college,

freezing my resolve to get after it
once again.


  1. Nicely done! I especially like the images of the frisbee-fingers and the hats and gloves flying, as well as the very satisfactory ending of the poem. One of your best, I think.

    Interesting in the reality of it, too, of course. I prefer the start of spring semester (or winter, depending on where one teaches) to fall semester. There's something workaday about it; it lacks the false luster of fall semester, especially for those of us old enough to remember what teaching college was like a generation of students ago, when the beginning of fall semesters did hold real promise.

    Yes, I'm jaded. I do really like this poem.

  2. Oh Greta!!

    Praise from you
    Is much appreciated.

  3. What a lovely way to begin my day! Thank you.

  4. See? This is why parents and students who visit CM are appalled. The moderators should close it down immediately.

    1. Professor Tingle, I hope you understood my reference to a recent troll. Actually, I thought your poem is beautiful. Thank you for it.

  5. Is it any wonder Dick and Yaro come from the same generation? Please forgive me if this comes out wrong, but most of my undergrad proffies were like this. I felt a level of warmth from them that made all the challenges of what I had to work on worthwhile and freighted with real meaning.

    I would like a bit of whatever it is they have.

    Thanks for the lovely piece, Dr. Tingle.