On my fortieth year down this freeway,
I am startled by a litter of six labs
bounding along the brush with abandon,
immune to danger in the tall grasses,
seeing with their noses, following
their noses, hearing keener than mine.
On campus, I spring along, encouraged,
suspended, deferred from demolition.
Snowbells line the way to the library,
recall the ghosts of ancient oaks.