the final days

everyday around lunchtime, outside the Ecology school, three professors play bluegrass tunes.

you can simply sit on granite walls, basking under Riverbirch, near reflecting ponds filled with fish and aquatic plantings, and listen to the sounds that maybe once inhabited the area, before the school's foundation, before the cotton boom across piedmont georgia, after the removal of the inhabitants of the land, during the drought of 2007, during the wars of the 90s and 2000s.

whispering among the reeds of the river oats, passing with every cloud, wanting with the dry soil,

begging like the quiet buildings full of books, begging for someone to come, read, list, learn. act.

utterly enjoyable.