Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Ora et labora

Here in the maze of the fourth floor carrels,

the Newberry Library fellows, monks

of modern day, copy into laptops

the mute treasures they find in volumes brought

by clerks who appear and disappear,

their footsteps muffled by thick ribbed carpet.

As in the cloisters, no one speaks, and when

these monks pass in the narrow corridors

they say nothing to each other -- aloud,

with eyes, raised hand or slightest nod of head.

Still, they communicate from cell to cell.

No great “Eureka!” of discovery,

but in the padded nooks not far from me

one coughs; one sneezes; one blows her nose;

another clears his throat; and someone farts.

Oh, holy Benedict! was it the same

through the ages in Monte Cassino?