Library as Oasis

There was a book a boy was encouraged to read

Entitled, “Encyclopedia of Angels”

That few, if any, had opened in many years,

Made evident to the boy when he attempted its opening,

Its cover creaking,

Pages flaking and crumbling.

Readable pages revealed

That locust invasions,

Like angels,

Were plentiful,

That dusk would be overcast

With thick waves,
Requiring arms of farmers to frantically wave

Them away to allow angels to view

Their labors.

Many years later,

The boy, now a man, visited the library often,

Where the setting sun shone

Through the narrow tall window,

Beaming its light through layers of airborne dust,

As the myriad angels and gods huddled

In dark unopened later editions,

Their shrouded secrets

Of less concern in the twenty-first century,

Even as the latest librarian

Went about her rounds,

Her gray head tipped

As if catching angelic whispers,

While the man paused,

Stared at the high windows,

Hearing from the outside

Only the outdoor hum of nature’s freedom

As he continued his Greek philosophers research on

“The Undeniable Voice of Reason.”