Bus Stop in Winter

Bus Stop in Winter

Bundled in jackets 
insulated with dead bird’s feathers                                                
we waddle down the long icy streets to                 
where the school-bus stops.     
   
And like penguins, we huddle for warmth,  
pressed against one another in a sea of black coats.    

Then the school-bus arrives,              
painted grey from the snow.  
As we board the bus,
its warm maw slides open to receive us,                                                        
and I can’t help but feel like we are being swallowed whole      
by a great massive seal.