The Scholar

 

            He gets up, shuts the windows

 

because it is raining, weeping the dust away

 

                        he shaves and cuts himself

 

burns the coffee, breaks a shoelace

 

            finds a button off his shirt

 

 

the newspaper screams corruption

 

                        loneliness clings to the walls

 

he gathers up his books, goes out

 

            slamming the door

 

 

at the bus stop on the corner

 

            people under their umbrellas

 

marvel at his face, drenched

 

                        him in his raincoat, collar turned up

 

rough curls under a crown of drops

 

            his smile a conquest, deep, bemused

 

                        with secret joy

 

for he has seen cream-colored Aphrodite

 

            rising from the sea-green froth:

 

he is still the Apollo of his dreams.

 

                                                a.o.howell

 

Alice O. Howell
Rosecroft
"Look for the sacred in the commonplace!" :)