in the library
Life has me by the seat of the pants lately and I feel like I can barely catch my breath. But busy is good. But, I'm going to try try trying to write here more. I miss this place. “In the Library” There’s a book called A Dictionary of Angels . No one had opened it in fifty years, I know, because when I did, The covers creaked, the pages Crumbled. There I discovered The angels were once as plentiful As species of flies. The sky at dusk Used to be thick with them. You had to wave both arms Just to keep them away. Now the sun is shining Through the tall windows. The library is a quiet place. Angels and gods huddled In dark unopened books. The great secret lies On some shelf Miss Jones Passes every day on her rounds. She’s very tall, so she keeps Her head tipped as if listening. The books are whispering. I hear nothing, but she does. --Charles Simic from The Voice at 3...