Sometimes I read for free,
paying only with approval or condescension,
I peruse books at Barnes & Noble, to buy at Amazon.
There’s a tinge of the unethical here, I think
as I sip my coffee for which I paid, so I’m not a total cheat.
My eyes slowly roam over the people, the rows of books
replete with thoughts, ideas and so many things.
I notice the picture of a young woman, lowering her pants
to show the thongs that split voluptuous cheeks. No wonder,
the magazine still lives pretending to sell cars, exploiting
the sacredness of..…I stop, laugh at myself. Who am I
I picked several books to inspect, to improve
my health, my spirit, to entertain.
The one from the poetry section is the only one
I read. Proving to myself once again,
that my choices reveal who I am.
Then her words flew into my breath,
feathers gracefully dancing in air, softly falling,
a prayer whispered for nothing in particular,
except to acknowledge, “I’m here.”
Once home, I couldn’t recite any of her poems,
yet, I knew them all because words are intended
more to be understood than to be recalled.
Now I thank the book store for having her books,
I understand better,
why so many of us love this earth.
(Submitted to Dverse Poets)