ARIA

His Saturday morning chores

Are finally done.

The leaves have been raked

From the lawn

And the headlights on his car

Have been replaced.

It’s just about one’oclock.

So he comes home,

Doffs his jacket and hat,

And comes into the study.

There’s no teevee in the study.

Just a well-worn, welcoming, comfy chair

With a radio on an end table next to it.

He turns on the radio and it

Gives off a warm little pop.

And almost immediately he is greeted

By an opera.

The man settles back in his chair

And closes his eyes.

He imagines the opera house with its tiers

And golden curtain, soon to part,

Revealing a magical place.

The cold, brittle world sluices away,

Melting with every jaunty and ethereal note.

He’s heard this opera several times before,

And many others like it.

The opera has never failed to enchant and

Enrapture him.

His mind can’t understand everything

The soprano is singing,

But his heart does,

And that is all he needs to know.

For the next hours of his life,

There is no worry

Or concern,

Only the special contentment

That an opera can provide.

No one dares disturb him

During the opera.

This is as close to Heaven

As he can get on Earth.