Spring Was

Mar 11, 2008 - 15:23 PM PST

SPRING WAS
I woke up to an unfamiliar report seeping in through the window. A shaft of golden particle crashes upon the blinds, slowly touches my walls and rises to the ceiling as I draw the strings to my hip. A broken beacon glides through the sky beckoning my thoughts north.
I adjust my leer past the stacks of paper, books, sleeping students, incandescent lights, and follow the light splashed linoleum through the great window. My dilations settle on the sun eating at the ivory blanket covering my town. It eats its fill, recedes behind the reviving front, and leaves brown puddles in its wake.
Two thirty-three, the bell rings and I can feel the atmospheric energy in my bones. At the bottom of the blue and gold stairwell I catch the wave, and ride it westward. Students splash and filter through the doors into the parking lot, like a river bleeding off a cliff. Hopeless as parade of wild salmon, I catch a glimpse of athletes battling the current.
Nest in sight I take a stride for the door, but the muddled lawn sucks my foot in with a belch. With a chuckle and a smile I pull my foot out, remove my shoes and bound across the lawn. Forgetting all as my day glows on longer than the last.
This is how spring once was.