Playchime

Just yesterday, the school bell tolled
to end term’s final day.
Out the gates we skipped and strolled,
delighted to obey.

But now the mop and bucket clank
through boring chores. It’s sunny.
I feed my grumbling piggybank
a bellyful of money.

A school-bell-bossy shrilling sends
me down to get the doorbell—
swinging out to play with friends,
the day’s not half so awful.

We’re on a quest to catch the sun,
out riding with King Arthur.
Beware! The monsters wobble-run.
I fight down peals of laughter.

A spellbound bush of flowers bends,
bells swishing to applaud us.
We pluck the bindweed from the fence
for magic cups and saucers,

tip the tin of milkshake chocolate
into tinkles in our mugs.
The milk says sweetly not to stop that,
glugs and glugs and glugs.

The garden rake and firetongs
clash like epic weapons!
Our battles are the stuff of songs
untaught in history lessons.

A rattle of the cattle grid
alerts us to invaders.
The grownups can’t find where we hid;
they sing what food they’ll trade us,

but I don’t take their orders
and I won’t succumb to spells—
except when they’re as gorgeous
as our summertime bells.