Books fall open, you fall in,
delighted where you’ve never been;
hear voices not once heard before,
reach world on world through door on door;
find unexpected keys to things
locked up beyond imaginings.
What might you be, perhaps become,
because one book is somewhere?
Some wise delver into wisdom, wit,
and wherewithal has written it.
True books will venture, dare you out,
whisper secrets, maybe shout
across the gloom to you in need,
who hanker for a book to read.
By David McCord
Poem via notesinthemargin.org.
Hot summer afternoons are my favorite time to sit and read. What are you currently reading?