Ode to Harpeth Hall

You students, you plaid, you dress uniforms
You Souby lawn grass, you magnolia shine
You red bricks, you Ann Scott Carell library
You Wallace, you Massey, you Bullard 
You green hills, and rain, and snow sometimes
You cardinals darting from tree to tree
You middle school girls skipping and free
You AP scholars, you Harkness discussions
You United States history, your voices so bright
I sing your praise for days now past
Though some may say he’s a California lad
The truth is, he’s really quite sad
Harpeth Hall you have made your mark
And hark, you who I taught, I may be gone
but you still have my heart

Dorm Hallway Phone

it rings and rings, that 
sound now fabricated for
flat screened rectangles in 
jean pockets, or purses

back then you had to jump 
off the bunk bed, sprint 
down the hallway hoping
whoever was calling would be

desperate enough to let it ring
8 times, 12 times, so important
that someone, anyone answer
because it could be a girlfriend

or boyfriend, or heaven forbid
a parent calling about a pet
dog who was put to sleep
then tears in front of all 
the other dormers in Foss Hall

and to think this happened
maybe twice a day, the phone rang
twice a day, or maybe three times