Winter at Junior School

As constant as the northern star that wasn’t there on winter morns,
My mother dragged me off to school, as I, in turn, with wellies on
Dragged shiny heels through dark blue puddles streaked with yellow shop door lights.
In mittens, bobble hat and duffle coat, the toggles done up tight,
I’d stomp in through the playground gates and drag the dark on stubborn legs
Into the dim lit cloakroom where I hung it on the painted pegs
And, face as thunderous as the dawn, I’d shake the cold out, stumble in,
And try to figure out what homework stories sounded genuine.