sam dickerhoof our stadium

The autumn leaves roll off of their branches, painting the ground an orange and yellow canvas around the stadium.

The turf is dusty today, a faded green displaying its current upkeep, where students praise each other from down below.

An air conditioner hums in the background, creating a white noise filling the empty silence.

Today is really cloudy, with hints of brittle cold that sneaks within my fleece.

The clouds cast a g ray look on the stadium, a dull representation of the energy St. X brings at Friday games.

The view is wonderful still, from so far up high overlooking the stadium, a sight that makes me stay in awe.

The moment is too glorious to pass down on, the view distant but approximate all at once.

When will the oranges turn to black, signifying death and decay to leave the previous year behind?

How could nature signify an end with such a beautiful palette of colors?

The Reformed warm colors, the Deathly silent cold-front, the Ingeminated season of change.