Poetry Sunday: The Bookstall by Linda Pastan

I think Linda Pastan's poem speaks for all of us who find solace in books.
For life is continuous
as long as they wait
to be read—these inked paths
opening into the future, page
after page, every book
its own receding horizon.
The Bookstall

by Linda Pastan
Just looking at them
I grow greedy, as if they were
freshly baked loaves
waiting on their shelves
to be broken open—that one
and that—and I make my choice
in a mood of exalted luck,
browsing among them
like a cow in sweetest pasture.
For life is continuous
as long as they wait
to be read—these inked paths
opening into the future, page
after page, every book
its own receding horizon.
And I hold them, one in each hand,
a curious ballast weighting me
here to the earth.

Comments

  1. What a gem! It really does capture the essence of a bibliophile, doesn't it? Each one of us can claim to have been the subject of the poem. When I die, I shall expect to have a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, and I will be happy with either Beethoven's 9th to escort me out, or the dawn chorus of bird song. Either one will do.

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  2. Funny how books both set us free and tie us back to our world.

    ReplyDelete
  3. That is exactly how I feel! I fell behind on reading others' blogs this week but here I am at last.

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