Awash the world in wisps of rain and gray
wet pavement, green and greener trees whose leaves
so lushly let their trickling answers fall
on empty streets, a hush of gauzy spring,
withheld breath breathed at last, a dénouement
of borrowed books not yet returned and beds
alone to yearn the quiet night along,
unbidden kisses and farewells, goodbye,
a host of vacant buildings gape and gaze
and sigh with barren rooms abruptly dark
so blue and green and grayer sky is seen
in window panes, the hours in silence pass
without the bells, and here and here and here am I.
Luke’s misty, melancholy love of springtime Yale often suffers from finals-induced amnesia. Please forward all treatment suggestions to firstname.lastname@example.org.