Gold

Tomorrow is December. How'd we get there?

It's the season of earbud wires frozen stiff and yellow lights wrapped around the bottom halves of saplings. Finals, the week after next, are just close enough to loom, review packets like tests of tormado sirens on sunny days. The morning is as dark when I leave the house as it was before daylight savings time. My cutting-edge love intrests are worn down like golden-brown beach glass.

I've been in a curious equlibrium between being astounded at being in the present and just being in it. If time flies when you're having fun, lately mine has slowed down a lot. Einstein might say it's me, speeding up. I'm no Einstein. I say that winter is colorless and bitter cold.