//------------------------------//
// 38 - The Children's Hour (sestina) 
// Story: Ponyville & Other Poems 
// by AugieDog 
//------------------------------//

Adrift on the breezes and always alone,
His pinions extend through the afternoon flare
To carry him nowhere with nothing exciting.
Dissolving's the goal, all his muscles relaxed—
A squawk, and the silence he's seeking is smashed
By talk of a school, and the wind seems to shift.

Adrift in the hive, she's a leaf.  With a shift,
A mushroom, a flower, a boulder, alone.
Observing the traffic that, scurrying, smashed
Its way through the tunnels, she buries her flare.
At home, she's herself; she can study, relaxed—
A school? With outsiders? She shakes: too exciting.

Adrift underwater or over's exciting,
Sensations exploding in shift after shift!
A whirlpool! Tornado! She's never relaxed,
Frenetic to banish her feeling alone.
She bounces to think of the school and the flare
She'll bring and experience, fear ever smashed!

Adrift through the drifts she's extensively smashed,
She yearns without yearning, the present exciting.
The lands of her birth are a shimmering flare!
Perfection is here! Though her thoughts start to shift
Whenever she settles in silence, alone.
She'll go to this school, but she won't get relaxed!

Adrift whether walking or talking, relaxed—
Unfocused, they say, like a lens that's been smashed.
No matter the crowd, he can think he's alone,
A blink his reaction to all that's exciting.
His parents enroll him, assure him the shift
Will spark his attention and stoke him to flare.

Adrift upon fountains of lava, her flare
Expands with a burst. She pretends she's relaxed,
But nothing, she knows, is surviving this shift.
To live among ponies? They shoulda just smashed
Her head with a boulder! A school's not exciting!
She sniffs, not afraid: she'll just be there alone.

They meet without flare. Nothing's shattered or smashed.
Instead, it's relaxed, unpretentious, exciting.
Their worlds slowly shift, and they're never alone.