Noah

The school bus comes,
the way it does each Thursday,
Autumn Term and Spring,
to whisk us to the public pitch,
my football group and me.

The boys spill out across the park,
clattering the tarmac with their studs -
except, of course, for Noah.
Noah checked out of life a time ago,
he watches from the sidelines, now,
cheers or boos as he thinks fit,
adds a comment here and there,
but refuses to take part.
His mates have changed their boots
on board the bus. Not he.
His trail behind him
bouncing over bumps and stones
on long entangled laces.

Noah likes a grandstand view,
and finds one in the nearest tree;
shins up it nimbly, boots and all,
and perches in a fork among the leaves.
Once. Twice. Three times I call,
inviting him to join us on the ground.
No way. Neither in word nor deed
comes a reply. (In thought, maybe,
but best to leave it. Go not there!)

So that is that. He will not come 
to harm. Nor will he perpetrate
harm, left alone. He's happy there.
(I'm not sure that these times
are helping him. The head, though, 
sees them differently. Press on!)
It's Noah's new life-style --
so one theory goes -- known
to some as non-alignment.

You cannot always out-guess life.
My last request was overheard.
A lady passing by - along the path,
as life would have it, right
beneath Noah's tree. She's heard
the end of it, is swathed 
in furs and tows a Pekinese the way 
Noah towed his football boots.
She looks up through the leaves.
Her voice is sweet -- as though
she wants to charm the birds:-

Why don't you be a good boy, now?
Come down and do what you are told?
Your teacher knows what's best. 
Noah knows some good invective,
when he thinks the time is right.
But even so, I have not heard
the like of this from him before! 
Suffice to say the stream begins with
And why the f*** don't you... 
Suggestions follow, some in the realm
of fantasy -- and hardly possible.

Would-be do-gooder, well-meaning 
to a T, the lady, gathering her furs
around her, gives the Pekinese
a tug that says let's go ,
resumes her progress through the park,
and snorts, but nothing like a lady,
as she passes me.