A crocodile of nursery tots ambles along the road.
High-vis jackets over winter coats give a heavy load.
Each with a chosen partner; holding hands as told.
Little legs in wellington boots, maybe twentyfold.

Heading to church they generate a heavenly sight.
Innocence personified helping the world look bright.
Staff member at the front and another at the rear.
No need to rush; everything is in a very low gear.

Teacher halts the traffic; the crocodile crosses the road.
Constant learning as tots listen to the green cross code.
Wearing gloves and mittens, balaclavas and bobble hats.
If they weren’t holding hands staff might be herding cats.

Chitter-chatter accompanies the slide toward their goal.
Just like a rookery of young penguins at the South Pole.
Forerunners of our commerce and trade with others.
A few will stay alone; many will be fathers and mothers.

For now though let us preserve their blamelessness.
Let’s simply encourage their eager tenaciousness.
Time itself will shape their rapidly unfolding lives.
Hopefully, success will be theirs when it finally arrives.