It arrives not with the last final or with the posting of grades or the scattering of college students back towards home, but with that first long walk. That long ambling wander through the campus and then out around the city. No agenda. Just walking with a notebook and a pencil and if everything goes well an image will slip out of the darkness, that lovely soft hum of city life that only really can happen when it's late enough to have driven everyone else indoors, and I can write. Sometimes ducked under a streetlight, trying to stay positioned to read without blocking off the light and other times, when the moon is enough to manage by, perched up a tree, removed even from those few other people who take the time to wander. Eventually though, feet get tired and the draw of bed pulls me back home to settle in. Besides, that first wander usually happens about 5 degrees too early.