Painting by Bev Jackson
An Old Book
The old book had waited
for years upon my shelves,
with a certain old world
grace until I picked it up
just the other day to browse
through her poetry again,
but in so doing the ancient
glue cracked, and the pages
broke loose from the spine
and fell out and scattered
across the floor. How soft
that leaf fall sounded
through the rooms of my life.
