I pick up a pen
to write my daily poem.
Its thin expanse is white
except for the red inscription:
Office of Alumni Affairs
and with a start I realize
my granddaughter will be an alumna soon.
My eyes turn to the retractable point
and I know there’s nothing retractable
about this or any moment.
In another year she’ll graduate from college
and this year her sister graduates from high school.
It won’t be all that long before I’ll be an alumna too –
unretractable awarenesses of this poem called life