A book is like a living wind
Its words flow lightly through
me
As a freeing thing of air
It is message there to
move me
For the simple life it finds
It touches . . .
Its spirit as a breeze, blows
Through my armour
Where it touches my heart
Its Aeolian harp
It lifts my mind in hope
Where it sways my inner
strings
It sings…
Of its living airy life I am taught:
Its seed caught hidden in my
dark
Poem from a Sequence:
A Rain of Booklight
Part 1 # 6
Part 1 # 6
(c) Judith Evans Deverell, 2014
The Bookmark Project
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