Saturday Morning Search

Saturday morning

Wide-eyed weekend exploring

In search of a poem

Not contained in a book

My subconscious is a knotted net

Yearning for expression and confidence

The librarian asks if it’s poetry month

I tell her I have no idea

I’m simply looking for Maya Angelou

Turns out she has a wealth of companions

A constellation of storytellers and stanzas

Spread across dusty bookshelves on the third floor

I collect one after another, stacked in my arms

Books like disclosed diaries

Rich like banquet tables set for a feast

Hidden beneath spines and covers

A treasure trove of limericks and style

Silently waiting to be invited to tea

Slowing down to read

Getting reacquainted with stillness

Each line is like a breath

A moment in history

A punctuation mark

A sign post to stop and consider

Wondering when I will listen to hear