In a posting on January 04, 2012, in my poem “The Kid’s Yellow Bus,” I reminisce about the years when our two girls rode a yellow school bus twelve miles to their country school, our son, who was born twelve years after the birth of our last daughter, stood and watched them go and come everyday. Years later, the threesome rode the bus together briefly.
The fact that the bus still passes by the house brings back those memories which I refer to in this poem. Life gets up and gets going for all of us and this is just one of those remembrances in the wife’s and my heart. Thanks for dropping by.
Bus from the Past
It comes from the south every morning at six
screeching as it slows in the leaves and the sticks
that cover the road from the fall’s brisk winds.
And with front beams on high and its red lights aglow
through the fog the bus hustles to the stop sign below….
at the bottom of the hill where it meets the east road,
though it turns to the left and west with its load –
youngsters all asleep on their long ride to school,
still immune to the revving of the school bus’s whine
and the innumerable stops that it makes ‘on a dime.’
There once was a day when the bus stopped here
and picked up the kids and all of their gear
and hauled them away to that ‘place’ for a while
where they studied and played and spent the whole day
and learned what to do that would take them away.
And it came to a point that it was just a routine
and we took it for granted like the sounds of the scream
we heard down the road in the darkness each morn’
and listened for the screeching as it came to a stop
as we hurried the kids out through the screen door’s plop!
After all of these years, we still hear the ‘screech’
on its approach from the south in the dark and the reach
of the early morn’s silence as we ready the day.
And pausing, momentarily, we listen for the past
the stop and screen door’s plop…. knowing blessed…. at last.
copyright 2013 t. j. gargano