afterbloom

Written sometime between 2013 and 2014. Edited in 2019.

I still remember those April evenings when the air was hot and heavy and sweet with the afterbloom of cherry trees.

We were in the library working our way to the next best thing. I felt as though I was on the eve, my toes touching the water. And yet I yearned to suspend myself in this coccoon of heat and sweetness.

We wondered if these mellow days would ever succumb in the harsh glare of the outside world, its edges still held at bay by time, but already visible in the future. For honestly, what did we, at Bryn Mawr, little scholars in a world of wonder, know about the life beyond.