Summer

Cacophony runs free from mouths of children, liberally testing the acceptable usage of the ever-elusive outside voice, demonstrating its voraciousness and enthusiasm, un-eagerly awaiting the end of a two-month utopia.

 

Fall

Hurried scratching of graphite on pulverized, flattened, and bleached wood pulp fills the otherwise muted room.  The scrape of metal on tile interrupts.  A pin.  A pen.  Click.  It’s test day.

 

Winter

5am ear-splitting rings reverberate as an automated voice on the other end of the line yells those words.  Magic is found in the of laughter and the squeals of joy.  The world is silent, the hearts of children are exploding with audible glee.  Snow day.

 

Spring

The flutter of chirps and wings abounds.  At times too early, at times inciting hope and a chance for renewal.  For rejuvenation.  A new season.  And new day.  Sing your song.