School Yard in August

Outside the fields 
Are coated in white.
Green grass, 
Bedecked with crystals 
Glitter beneath 
The morning’s early sun. 

School shoes are damp
They litter classroom carpets 
With green clumps, and strands,
And smears of mud, 
As we’re all told to take our coats off inside. 

Feet stamp on hollow flooring 
The old wall heater is struggling
And still we’re all told 
To take our coats off inside. 

The teacher surveys us, with eyes that stream,
Ignoring the shiver of the boy with blue fingers.
To a chorus of sniffing, as condensation 
Drips, 
Languidly down oversized windows.
The door still ajar is finally shut with a bang, as 
A single stick of chalk whitely marks the blackboard.

The light of the sun blinds our eyes as we peek
Towards 
The tin bus shelter
Beyond the round footy field

Until finally
The bell sounds, and we may open the door
Collecting our coats, play lunch in our pockets. 
Faces pink, red;
Beneath the mid-morning sun, 

Its weak warmth, the wet grass 
Now seem somehow friendly, 
As our coats are soon too,
Discarded like tissues. 

As originally published in The Four Seasons Project (a collection of short stories & poems)