Oneiros

Once in wheatened fields

he ran

exalted by the wind

limbered stretching,

brushing legs, and arms

soaring over golden ends,

undulating seed top rushes,

toward the blue earth split sky

ahead, behind, aside

the same distant magic line

never reached but out for,

exuberated glad.

  Are you listening?                                                     Sir? The answer?
  I' m not sure...sir.                                                    Anything? I guess                                                   not sir. Someone                                                  else! Who knows
  the answer?   

Desktop leaning sitting

jammed to next, stopped

and waiting

for the teaching sound to end

or to speed up, 

get out and get away

then a sideways glance

to the glass squared outside sky

Once again in wheatened fields,

he Ran.