The tenital hum in my ears, and the electric drone behind the walls. The ignited engine of a postal truck, and the first notes of a sparrow’s song. And the rain-soaked ground where they predicted snow would fall.

The warmth in my gut, and the flow of vibration down my spine. The cooling along my ribs, and the tactile sensation on my fingertips. And the rain-soaked ground where they predicted snow would fall.

The challenge of a day’s grading, and the reluctance to face it. The fear of self-advocacy in the face of administrative fiat, and the courage to accept it. And the rain-soaked ground where they predicted snow would fall.

Just another ordinary Saturday morning.

the melt off

that wasn’t

these clouds