Alice O. Howell   


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.




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