Choosing a Book

Generally, I write every day, but for the past month or so, I haven’t been pulled to the blank page. My pen requested a rest. Instead, I’ve been reading and, indeed, reading has its pleasures. Here’s one – choosing a new book.

Image result for old book

Choosing a Book

Like children for a game,
each book wishes
to be chosen,

their words nervously clicking
as rows of teeth.
I listen for a proper whistle,

a quiet song slipping
from a bound page,
likely wrinkled or smudged,

a melodious strain
warbled by a story’s hero,
a boy, with tussled hair,

who wields a magic sword,
or even a snort snorted
from the cavernous black

of an ogre’s nose;
it’s enough, a reason
to find a pleasant shadow

beneath a tall elm
and read.

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