Bus Stop

our bus moved on
through the routine of life
across the tracks of time
past the signs that told us
to live life cautiously

we think of Joe, Mary, and Judy
Margie, George, and maybe Charles
those cold mornings
standing in the snow
waiting for our ride
along the worn streets
the shuttered houses
sending morning puffs of smoke
to waken the day
the nickel and dime store
where I bought a kite one summer
there’s Meyer’s Grocery Store
good for penny candy

we rode as if
fitted into our places
traveling the school route
with a handful of books
and homework done the night before
this was our world for now
the history of our making

our week parceled out day by day
our time separated into subjects
our hours programmed by others
our places assigned and seated
all neatly arranged and scheduled

we welcomed the whistle of the train
going places we could only dream of
counting the cars as they passed by
and last of all - the red caboose
we followed it until it disappeared
down the tracks

how stoically we wore the days
like the mailmen in all kinds of weather

life is a constant path of learning
choosing destinations to many places
reading signs of where we want to go
riding with others along the way
wondering how we all got from there to here
remembering those early morning bus rides