Waiting for an epiphany

Spring was much too late this year.  I sit in the amphitheatre, my seat for the last few days of third year.   The infamous goose rests beside me.  

"Inspire me!" I whisper to the goose.

I expect a spark, some miraculous epiphany.  I stare into space, hoping the drab red brick will tell me something I didn't know.  Come on, just like in the movies!  Did all those screenplay writers lie to me?  Of course.  Who wants to see a movie about 99% perspiration?  So, like a jaded child, I wait for the 1% that supposedly does all the work.