The Back of the Bus

A big yellow school bus
Trundles down the highway
In cautious, bright defiance
Of gray, early winter skies
Hovering at the rear window
A tiny moon of a face appears
Disembodied through tinted glass
It seems to bob and weave

Its narrow eyes scan the traffic
In the lanes behind the bus
Frantic in their search
For the most perfect victim
A second little face appears
Looming ominously by the first
Bolstering the search effort
With a second pair of tiny eyes

I engage the turn signal
As I begin to position myself
To pass this lumbering obstacle
This gargantuan lemon on wheels
I move around the back left corner
Of the big yellow school bus
And I think I have escaped the notice
Of the sentinels at the rear

Suddenly, I see lips begin to move
The second points in my direction
And the tiny moon face of the first
Comes out of eclipse towards me
Her gaze locks intently on mine
And she breaks out in a huge smile
Then she raises her little right hand
And proceeds to wave gleefully at me

A bit shocked, and a bit touched
I smiled and waved in return
I felt oddly humbled and honored
To have been chosen for this gift
Still innocent yet of the ways
Of the older, more cruel kids
Who follow a different agenda
When they meet in the back of the bus