Icy wind and incinerator steam drifts aimlessly across the valley
Some unspoken order sends the sheep marching single file to warmer pasture
Two boys, caps back, with matching Minecraft packs, trail reluctantly behind a stressed mother, desperate to make the school on time
Other mothers pass her, already heading home, freed of their charges they chatter like schoolgirls planning a dance
Echoes of playground laughter run around the nearby churchyard, where blowsy daffodils droop in silent tribute and fresh faced snowdrops eagerly await the day
A lonely glove waits hopefully on a handy branch and discarded poo bags loiter by the community centre, blackbirds take up position on the deserted cricket pitch
On such a day great poets learn to read, engineers begin to dream and lifetime lovers hold hands for the first time.
The bell rings
😉 Wonderfully evocative, Martin, Many of the images resemble the present scene, at 4-15pm, from my sitting-room. You have inspired me to try and write about that...
great descriptions of the school run, love it.
I can see how this would appeal to Macmillan mate, Bravo, a great piece!!
Well observed including the inevitable poo bags
From the everyday ordinary, extraordinary can flurish. Great piece