He shoved the stacked book aside;
hardbacks astute is poise and confidence.
These walls need to be seen.
The traces left
of old pictures, smiles, fields, birds,
and whatever living should be remembered.
The stacked books lifted yesterday to the roof.
He stared, finding wonder and longing simultaneously.
Sprinkling a grunt, he moved them some more.
These chairs called for his rest.
That which his patience deserved
as much as his back.
He grabbed a book and succumbed
While the quieting kettle
clicked for his attention.