By Bryce Yoder, Student Writer in Residence
There’s a part of me that finds nice weather in late November…
a touch unsettling.
Don’t get me wrong,
I’m a sucker for 55 with a light breeze,
sun maybe partially obscured behind some wispy cotton balls
it feels wrong.
There’s something unnerving about sitting in my science hall,
talking about climate change and a warming globe,
then walking outside
to find it a crisp 65
in the middle of the month that usually ushers in the snow.
I don’t know if maybe that’s my anxiety not letting me enjoy a nice thing,
or maybe it’s my fear of spring showing
because I prefer when things die
rather than when they bloom.
This weather gives me a nice afternoon,
but when it’s dark at 4:30
what use have I for day straight outta’ late September?
I don’t remember why I thought to write this.
I love a good cool autumn day.
And it is,
But I guess that’s how the wind blows through my semester-emptied skull –
looking to the dystopian future
instead of enjoying what will be the idealists’ past