First Day Of Kindergarten
Bus steps are too high, but William clambers up gamely.
Doors shut. He peers out a print-marked window.
From the street corner, I wave like a soldier's bride
as his bus turns a corner and pulls away.
At noon, the yellow bus returns him to the same place
where I'm standing again.
He thinks I stayed, waiting in his absence.
When he finds out I played tennis all morning,
his forehead crumples like paper in a wastebasket.