After
lunch we ran
up the stairs,
down the hall
far ahead of our keeper,
a
poor woman easily five times our years.
We were
storms of boots and jackets,
thick, patched snow-pants and woolen socks.
Mittens were lost
hats simply left behind.
Again but faster down the hall
around the corner and through the door.
And out, gone, flying, freezing
falling on
slippery-scraped asphalt.
We
pushed and
jumped and
ran and
lay -
and threw, until we caught the
matron’s eye -
and
prayed the
bell to break,
though it
never did.
We
filed in, barely-ordered
chaos
soaked and
red and
numb,
clumsy fingers loosely tying shoes
back to
desks and
boards and
books.
Students, again.
But for a
few short minutes, Gods
- if only of the playground…