Halfway up Church Hill truants sat
overlooking the school.
On small grounds passed up big chances.

Lying in the grass among busy bees.
Constriction stamped on freedom's face
or vice versa. Sweets in place of food.

And then the head-down stump home alone. 
The usual way to go, unremarked. 
Punctual as hell, no problem.

Depression attended for those journeys.
And now, as appointments menace.
Shuffle along through that same wide space.

What can you do?
There was a dog in the picture.
I swear that made it all O.K.