It first appeared as a white patch
on the ivy covered wall
near an open window
of the arts building
It caught my eye immediately
Like paint spilled
on a canvas
of green
Not high up and easily seen
Standard clean paper
With words
resting on their sides
Three corners fixed in the vines
The fourth flapping
in the gentle breeze
of the spring morning
Curious now I tilt my head
to match the plane of text
and see the tell tail stanzas
of a poem
Suddenly it flutters
Loosened from its moorings
It sails down
for me to pick up
I notice first the A+
Written in red
Near the top left margin
Above the title
Seated on a nearby bench
I begin to read
Words I know well
but cannot understand
Breathing for themselves alone
This cacophony of words
Screaming out “How Clever”
the writer
Imagery and symbol hidden
Beyond the finding
In a tangle of the obscure
Bereft of what deepens, illuminates
I finish the reading
Maybe I know more now
of what academia puts out
Of what gets the A+
I enter the door behind the ivy
to return the paper and text
and head home
to read Bukowski
Peter Schessler is a semi-retired psychotherapist. He was a past winner of the VSA New Jersey Wordsmith Competition in the essay category and has poems and creative non-fiction work published in Trajectory and Colere. Schessler was a weekly columnist for the Independent Press of Bloomfield, New Jersey and has appeared as a guest columnist in the Atlantic City Press. He lives with his wife, Joan, a pastel painter, in Clifton, New Jersey.