In the solitude of these hours

the house slowly wakes.

Plastic garbage bags strewn about

a first year of college is finally over.

Today is like the first day of summer,

even if it were a month too soon.

The sky looks so differently here,

the previous years of drought are gone.

The memory floods at this window

unseasonable rain pours.

A lit cigarette interrupts the clean air

and it’s all the same.

The unpaid balances of yesterday

still remain the same today.

Many of these instructional hours

where one is truly learning

is spent in solitude’s tepid grasp.

Todays pouring rain

promises the day to start even later.

The house is quiet

it’s just past noon and

breakfast was either skipped

or not started,

welcome home.