In my Evanston, clear wet feathers descend throughout dusk, gliding, weaving through the breeze.
The shade and shadows, combined, create a perfect night of a pitch black void…
It is Monday Morning and School is awaiting.
The late, crescent, moon compliments the feathers, all white, when I walk out the door…
…out into the freezing wonderland that awaits me.
The snow pierces my scarf in hope to sting delicate skin, when others are beautifully created to float gently down.
I begin pacing.
Down,
down,
down the sidewalk leaving a trace of patterned footprints.
Down,
down,
down a mile to be taught in an education building people call…school.
The gentle, yet strong, the hum of the bell breaks out through the speakers…
…school is open.
A plethora of facts waves over the class.
The sickly sweet aroma of lunch rises at noon.
Learning hits students.
The bell sings…
School is over.
Everyone screams,
Startled by the hum,
Everyone runs,
Back home,
When Homework hurts,
And in minutes done.
Then eat,
sleep,
repeat,
All in my Evanston.
The shade and shadows, combined, create a perfect night of a pitch black void…
It is Monday Morning and School is awaiting.
The late, crescent, moon compliments the feathers, all white, when I walk out the door…
…out into the freezing wonderland that awaits me.
The snow pierces my scarf in hope to sting delicate skin, when others are beautifully created to float gently down.
I begin pacing.
Down,
down,
down the sidewalk leaving a trace of patterned footprints.
Down,
down,
down a mile to be taught in an education building people call…school.
The gentle, yet strong, the hum of the bell breaks out through the speakers…
…school is open.
A plethora of facts waves over the class.
The sickly sweet aroma of lunch rises at noon.
Learning hits students.
The bell sings…
School is over.
Everyone screams,
Startled by the hum,
Everyone runs,
Back home,
When Homework hurts,
And in minutes done.
Then eat,
sleep,
repeat,
All in my Evanston.