June sweat meandered down my brow
as I daydreamed out the classroom window
The teacher’s voice was muted by restless,
shifting bodies, writhing at their desks
Throbbing faces turned as one
to speed the plodding clock
Recess – swelled to bursting – unleashed
a thunderstorm of feet
Through the steel doorway all of us ran
flooding the playground – a delta of children
The sun, melting and naked,
squinted our eyes, visored by hands
Running, you brushed past me
to the burnished, towering jungle gym
Turning, I focused on a wonder,
mesmerized and dazzled
The whirlwind was the first I’d ever seen
It raced across the playground shifting, turning, dancing
Every gyration brought it closer
to the bars on which you sat
Then the spinning dust collided
with your dangling, slender legs
A swirling wind caressed me as I traced
a path up glistening flesh to a skirt lifted briefly by a breeze
You shifted your weight for modesty,
your rising brows questioning me
Looking down I saw dirt upon my shoes
and realized I’d never bowed my head except for prayer
The sudden bell of order blared
and the tide of children ebbed
You brushed past before filing close to me
your hair was gold and tousled, yet smelled of sweat and steel
As class resumed we took our seats,
glanced at the teacher, then smiled
The teacher’s voice was distant
as you scribbled on some paper
I heard you faintly whisper
as I gazed out of the window
And I longed to be near the
jungle gym with a whirlwind blowing through you