The metal gleams in the bright sun.
The pebble gravel produces dust as the children run through it.
& the children!
They are spread out across the scene, laughing and playing.
However, there's a bully across the way
& a little boy crying because he pushed him down.
Oh here come the mothers,
One scolding, one babying--
Pehaps they arent mothers at all
But teachers.
They blow their silver whistles
&they all come running into two neat lines
In unison they march back onto the bus
It roars to a start and they are off.
Moments ago they caused a dust storm
Running through the gravel,
Now they have left it to settle,
Until next time
*for creative writing.--what grade would you give it?
