It's cold outside.
For the first time in a long while, the chilly morning air nips at my
fingers and my lips and my lungs. Early morning sunlight forms a brilliant,
blue and gold swash against a sea of low hanging clouds. Save for the
occasional voices of groggy students, their trainers beating in rhythm against
the clay track, I am alone in the brisk, breezy air.
A solitary jaybird cries in the distance and, for a moment, I can feel its loneliness.
This is not a solitude of sadness or ennui, but one of quiet introspection.
While he rarely shares companionship with his winged brethren, he is feared and
misunderstood; the songbirds flee whenever he approaches. In my short, fleeting
life, I have grown to admire the ways of the jaybird, his solitary
contemplation and reverence. What he cannot take by force, he takes by cunning
and guile. No seed escapes his black, hooked beak.
But I cannot be the free spirit I yearn to be. I cannot share the unbound
liberty of the jaybird, at least not now, for instead of flitting silently
through an ancient wood, I am sitting upon a cold, metal bench, waiting for the
school bell to toll. Oh! What I'd do for a hot cup of coffee on this shivering
fall morn, an earthy mug of inspiration and vitality. Alas, I am condemned to
stay, to accept instruction and shape myself for the future, regardless of its
impact on the present. Yes, the endless orations of a thousand disenchanted
educators fill the space in which I should be educating myself, allowing my
body, mind and soul to run free.
I want to trample fallen leaves on cloven hooves, to bathe in icy springs
and roast wild partridge over a crackling fire. I want my only worry to be the
size of my woodpile and the bread in my cupboard. Free of coercion, of
government and tyranny, I would be a man truly governed by whims alone. I yearn
for these things because it is the responsibility of every man to strive for
absolute freedom, for a return to a simpler life in which one chose his own
But, until the frost sits upon the amber leaves, until the first delicate
snowflakes fall, I will remain and I will obey.
It is certainly cold outside this morning, but not nearly cold enough.