Elegy

I can't describe it, but there was something elegiac about the evening, as I hurried to a lecture after work. Something about the alleyway, the spire of the building I had been teaching in, and the late evening sun, spoke of passing. Maybe it was an elegy for a long summer, still doggedly holding on to its last remaining days.

Maybe it was an elegy for a rocket that was about to explode a couple of seconds after take-off in just over an hour. Terrible waste of all that astronaut ice cream on board.