Coos River School

Time went so exceedingly fast;

each memory—a flashcard,

too early recess whistle,

or how soon I missed the sounds

of rustling in the hallway

from the hanging up of coats

and the putting away of backpacks

after silently leaving the classroom that last time.

I attended through 2nd grade,

metaphorically felled, like you, by ballot measure;

after you closed, another school won the bid,

yet fond memories I still have of you—

Halloween haunted houses,

not only in the gym but the school within,

with bobbing apples, scarecrows,

long-winding and decorated cardboard trick tunnels,

smiling teachers, staff, and volunteers

brought joy and great laughs.

A place to trick or treat,

with costumes on display,

pumpkins as well as hay;

a time for just good, clean, country fun—

oh, what a long time did you run.

Like the past, long gone, of travel to school

by riverboats, horses, and game trails,

you are no more, but like the original school

built there before you,

you kept at your core, caring for the people.

A church now in your place,

with indoor and outdoor stands,

and seems in good hands,

from diplomas conferred,

presently to weddings, food drives,

and soul attending, all currently preferred.

With the power of place at your core,

your spirit which has lasted long,

seems to have the best chance to prolong

our sense of community,

if caring before can be any prediction

of a caring future.