Words start with A and go on from there,
enough to seem infinite even if not, if finite
and bound by the limits of our knowing.  Words
a flowering of amazement that overwhelms
ambivalence.  Say amygdala.  Think amethyst,
antiseptic, ambergris, adamantine:
words that fix forever, faceted delights,
such jewels of vocabulary to collect,
to secret away assiduously, to horde.
Ponder aphrodite, adonis, astrophel,
amanuensis: who’s to say what is god
and what is not, what the perfect marble
representation, the best frescoed depiction
of the ideal, the conceptual, the abstract,
only know it begins with A, the first letter,
that which precedes every ending in alpha order.
Consider apostrophize, appalachian,
aphrodisiac, asparagus.  Amplify
amplitude: spend all life learning just A words
and go no farther, ignore the others
or cast them aside as unworthy attention.
Let someone else specialize in Q or X,
in the quixotic, in the unknown, in what comes
after.  Revel in authentic and ampersand.
Adopt the newest ones scientists invent, say
abilify, arimidex, aricept,
anastrozole, aripiprazole.  Add annexes
to the house of A; specialize in A words,
both new and arcane; earn like me a Ph. D.
in the intricacies and range of A.

Cecil Morris retired after 37 years of teaching high school English, and now he tries writing himself what he spent so many years teaching others to understand and (he hopes) to enjoy.  He has poems appearing or forthcoming in Cimarron Review, Hole in the Head Review, New Verse News, Rust + Moth, Willawaw Journal, and elsewhere.  He is trying to learn the names of all the birds that frequent the yard he shares with his patient partner, the mother of their children.