Sunday School Outing
rills is the end of anticipatory fuss:
Wheels ripping, churning slush along the lanes ; Smell of wet woollen permeates the bus, Pewter-and-lead-streaked its windows in the rain.
No more expectant, pressed against each pane Small, well-washed faces, avid for their Treat, Donkey rides and pierrots and Punch-and-Judy stands, Ices and iced cakes and lollipops to eat, Copper keys to treasures clutched in sticky hands.
Now only memories: wet and windlashed sands, Grey streets and grey skies, white-grey sea and spume.
Yet, in bravado, at the finish of their day,
Singing and strouting, in and out of tune.
Loud in crescendo to the coach's sway, " Everyone happy ; had a lovely day." HILDA BODerr.