The rubber swings glide almost in unison
A volleyball on wood chips losing one panel
Waits patiently for a recess that will not come
Again this year.
A white cotton glove weathering brown
Longs for partner and owner, desiring only home;
Minus flags, the unused snaps meet the pole
In a tuneless clank.
Breezes scatter leaves across front sidewalks
Winter aconite giving way to hyacinths;
Days crawl in funereal succession
In a dry spring.
Will they return, children and teachers, aides and principals
After the plague, after the summer, after the stories
Of deaths and survivals? Will autumn carry with it
A budding hope?