The tipping point is
When the madcap rush toward graduation
Turns into a
Not to end until
The parents rush onto the field
To hug their graduates
Cry, take photos, and be proud.
This year, as much as most, it’s easy to feel the pace quicken
The students smiles speaking thoughts
And the sunny future.
After Senior Awards the days shorten
And that feeling of impermanence
(both real and as fleeting as a dream)
Tints every interaction with a touch of melancholy
Tempered only by the youthful exuberance of
For whom high school feels like it will last forever.