i sit here in McNeal Hall.
the computer lab is brightly lit, but in the darkened halls the only illumination comes from that strange light before a big evening storm.
a distinctly summer light. the sky out my window is that glorious blue that only happens in storm cloud, and the distant air is hazy with rain.
when i look at it, finals seems to dwindle
and i want to sit on a front porch, with just tea, and watch the irrevocable weather come.


i go to knit. and watch, from inside, which is cozy in its funny McNeal way.
-Signed, Gyp.