From the 1996 edition of The Muse: The First Thing I Say

   (After Marvin Bell)

to an eighteen-year-old awaking,
image of innocence, whisper of summer,
I say through a door closed to curiosity,
as I tap lightly and speak softly,
chasing Morpheus from the yellow room,
inviting the dreamer to come out into the world
of things and doings, to leave the world of dreams,
to join the runners, to enter the race
toward some distant goal,
not ramming headlong into the walls
that are the obstacles,
nor sneaking around them,
but soaring over them as an eagle soars
and reaching, finally, that line
that marks the end of the contest,
a victor among victors,
wearing the leaves of the laurel
planted with love
and tended with care
so many years before.

Edward Robert Raupp