Elsewhere

The chances are slim
and the situation grim.
April is back.
Cruelty out of the shack.
It is afternoon.
The trees stand still
put up a brave face in the sun
while the sea prepares the breeze.
Pens slip out of sweaty palms
and write whatever pleases them.
A thumping heart leaps out,
paints its relief all across
an easy question paper.
The mirages clear out.
Evening switches on the breeze
and suddenly we are elsewhere.