Even at this late date, sometimes I have to look up
the word "receive." I received his deep
and interested gaze.
A bean plant flourishes under the rain of sweet words.
Tell what you think—I'm listening.
The story ruffled its twenty leaves.
Once my teacher set me on a high stool
for laughing. She thought the eyes
of my classmates would whittle me to size.
But they said otherwise.
We'd laugh too if we knew how.
I pinned my gaze out the window
on a ripe line of sky.
That's where I was going.
|From Fuel. Copyright © 1998 by Naomi Shihab Nye. Published by BOA Editions, Ltd. Used by permission of the publisher.|