Don't get me wrong,
I'm not some college kid
wearing primary colors,
a tropical bird flashing his crest
to attract a mate,
full of beer and no worries.
Sure, I'm free of work
and preparation for a week,
an elementary school teacher
with no students to teach,
free now to read books
not intended for middle grades.
I'm free to watch documentaries
on NetFlix not about American history,
unless that's what I choose,
because I'm free to decide, not hindered
by contracts or standards or dull textbooks,
I can challenge myself to be better.
I'm free to sleep in, my alarm turned off,
free to drink my coffee slowly,
savoring it, not slamming it down
as I rush out the door, hitching
up my courage to face another commute,
free to stay out of the car all day.
But am I free from responsibility?
No, there are clothes to wash,
meals to cook, dishes to clean,
dry, and put back in the cupboards,
and my son's home with me too,
so I'm free to be a full-time dad.
* * * * *
This poem was written in response to Prompt 128 to write a spring poem at Poetic Asides. I also incorporated the idea of "free" from Sunday Scribblings.