—written by Kathleen
Oh, to be a child in June
when the clock hands swing toward noon
on the last of school.
Bright ribbons of breathless color,
footsteps pounding the pavement
racing toward waiting cars and buses,
leaving behind classrooms and cement
racing toward summer’s sweet scent.
Oh, to be a child in June
with an entire summer free
to embrace sunshine, dreams and creativity. . .
For additional reading:
TO MATTIE
OF FIREFLIES AND LIGHTNING BUGS
LOGGING IN MAINE AND ON THE PERU-BRAZILLIAN BORDER
PLANT FOOD RECIPE: Making Compost
