Raleigh Gentleman

For years, he’s lived on campus though he’s not
Affiliated there in any way– it leads out
To the corner of the junction to the lot
Where bikers park and lovers whisper to the river
That they’ll stay. Most days, his shades are drawn–
No need to let the prying undergrads peek in
And see him writing to a wife who is long gone
Or watch his cocker spaniels play, but evenings
Catch a lovely light reflecting off the Charles,
Sweep the yellow leaves across his window, so he
Pushes back the heavy curtains– like a woman
Pulling back her hair, the world becomes slow motion;
Its silence is so intimate; its darkness is devotion.