Learning to write

I remember learning

to write in cursive

in third grade
how the teacher

gently moved my arm 

so my elbow rested
on the edge of the desk

for support, she said,

and better control

of the pen.

I don’t remember

what I wrote

that day, just the feel

of her warm hand

gently nudging

my elbow forward

an inch or two

so it rested on the desk,

no longer hanging

in the air,

and how it felt

more snug, more secure,

like riding a bicycle 

without training wheels,

and finding my balance.