ann zelenka
I wonder how the schoolhouse feels
Now everyone has gone
Whether it likes to be left alone
From dawn to rosy dawn
I think...perhaps...it does, for now
The wind is cool and sweet
The grasses green and clover-starred,
Untrodden by careless feet.
The noise and clamor are far away
There is a silence in the hall
Only the whisper of sunlit leaves
As they rustle against the wall.
