Each year the ritual clock watching occurs
In classrooms across the nation
Is it time yet? Is it time?
The school day morphs into the first of summer
The minute hand slows, reluctant to free them
The children vibrate with the thought of it
Liberation
Freedom from rising with the sun
Freedom from tense gobbled breakfasts and unfinished homework
From disappointing pizza days, mean girls, and dodge ball
The heart-soaring joy of it when the bell rings at last
Formalities complete, “Have a good summer, Mr. Mazur!” “Do you have my number, Meg?” “Is the pool open yet?” “Can I catch a ride with you?”
The inmates break free of the asylum and spill forth
In sun-kissed euphoria
Breaching the gates of Summerland
“No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers’ dirty looks!”
This time, the school year ended
Not with a shout but a question mark
It begins again for everyone
With the fear and uncertainty, outcasts know so well
All joy, all ritual abolished
From the first day as it was from the last
Survival’s knee rests on the neck of Knowledge
About the Creator
Denise Shelton
Denise Shelton writes on a variety of topics and in several different genres. Frequent subjects include history, politics, and opinion. She gleefully writes poetry The New Yorker wouldn't dare publish.
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