Jingling keys marks the beat my feet march to. It’s almost as if it’s planned–ching ching, ting ting, chang, ching ching, ting ting, chang. One, two, three, one, two, three, two, one. The autumn-present threat of cider promises tangy kisses, warmed stomachs, and equally heated laughs. Breathing in the, wait for the cliche, crisp new air of fall-time fun reminds me of decay and the endless cycle of things that are and thing that will cease to be. I know what’s coming–days of eternal-like snowfall, cold feet and fingers, hot cocoa, and hateful, blistering wind. Not scared, though. No, never scared, annoyed maybe, but it’s hard to be angry with something so beautiful. The autumn time tides in new season inspiration and dedication, motivation to continue on with ardent work ethic. (Grammatical mistake? Perhaps, but it fits the mood.)It also warns of the winter that will blanket sleepy hearts and restless minds.
Ching ching, ting ting, chang.
Classes, work, homework, sleep. A little reprieve in between, hopefully, but we’ll see. Electrical tape rings my fingertips–papercuts abound. Ching, ching, ting, ting, chang chang, clang.
It’s time to scurry off to class, where there will be notes taken, lectures listened, and pencil lead broken (because we all know it’s inevitable.)
