Blossom

I’m a screw. In a zoo
of zigzagging children in their wonderful oblivion of playtime
I wear high viz. I blow a whistle.
There is nothing here except tarmac, two footballs and the collective energy of two hundred children.
The fences keep us safe.
The fences keep us safe.
I observed a colleague in despair
over continual bad behaviour-
buffoonery, boys acting like animals-
and I thought a thought to myself:
isn’t this what happens when we put people in cages?
In our secure area, paranoia reigns
no one wants anything bad to happen
so risk means responsibility means more recognition means more restriction means, means..
school is a castle; where we keep your kids.
so it’s divine high octane chaos is playtime
and after months of threat of rains pelt
and winds whip and cold and wet playtimes in mad as sardine classrooms..
they opened the gates to the field.
this Eden, now covered in constellations
of dandelions and daisies;
lies like bloodline love long overdue an embrace
of its offspring, prepared now
here they come
being corralled like at an unexpected theme park ride
-the field, the field is ready
the open arms of its vast earthy space
-are we going on the field?
with trees to run around
with a banking to roll down
with a football pitch that has actual goalposts
there’s enough for the entire school
to feel the energy, the ground, the grass
the children swirling all over it
like blossom.