Too brief a liberty, then back to work,
to ordinary, quotidian grind
determined to sharpen each dull young mind
into a solid intellectual dirk.
There isn't time to take in every quirk
but you just have to deal with what you find
and in that dealing be both hard and kind
for far too many relish still the murk.
You hate confinement in a flying can
but seeing other places is divine.
Each journey has a grammar you must parse,
teaches you something far outside the plan,
allows you a small taste of different wine;
but still you have to get there on your arse.