Vernal Equinox (Mid March)
The academic quadrangle lies dreaming along the cardinal points. The campus police golf cart enters from the west and exits from the east. It enters from the south and exits from the north. It enters from the west and exits from the south. There is no need to further enumerate possible ingresses and egresses of the campus police golf cart.
A lone note on a lone piano is struck. Fluorescent overheads pour from a half-opened classroom window. The cherry trees stand impatient, in a flurry. Their trodden petals melt into the walkway brickwork. Lines on a staff are extended, note by note, measure by measure, played then erased then extended. The process can be automated. A whole host of software programs exist, programs for every budget, every experience level. An ensemble is summoned. The lone note finds extension and supplement.
Wet petals fall on wet blades, are intermixed, treaded together, by off-trail traffic. The turf is worn, chill, not quite ready for touch. The campus police golf cart pulls over. Its driver asks for credentials, as per revised security guidelines. Amber strobe lights strobe leisurely. A procedural dialog ensues. The golf cart pulls away. Shifts are changing. Policies are changing. The nights are growing short.
