Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2013
Let the springtime follies find their place,
And every admin find his clarion call.
Faculty and staff find hiding space;
The dice are cast and heads must fall.

The changing of the guard makes haste;
Outside the trickling melt is slow.
Quickened blood and whitened face...
Colleagues lost.... We wonder who will go.

House cleaning goes with spring, I guess;
We tend to move those articles of ease,
Ignoring those who have the power to oppress...
Whose absence might bring summer on the breeze.
Don Bouchard
Written by
Don Bouchard  65/M/Minnesota
(65/M/Minnesota)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems