A Poem for Sue Ann Martin

We’d wave at you, and you at us,
each morning as kids piled off the bus,
my daughters and I would walk past your window,
fleetingly mindful of flowers and Crypto.

I’m remembering a Sunday not long ago,
that Sunday piled high with new fallen snow;
folks said, "close church," and I said, no, if you please;
and you showed up ~ one of a dozen ~ arriving on skis.

I remember many things, and truly, we all do,
your faithful following is a large, devoted crew;
your teaching and your life were masterful art;
borne witness by the fact that even when you sweat,
the stain made a heart.

That stain will cling to us, we will wear it with pride;
and we promise to engage the world with our curious side;
as you taught, we will not shrink from running the extra mile.
Your class, Mrs. Martin, lives on in us, and with it, your smile.

And so with sadness, and with joy, we salute every one of your 50 years;
the end of your class came much to soon, we confess, and with tears;
but we stand here today to say we love you, even more than you loved to run;
and we declare to you, well done, good and faithful servant, well done.