The Reader

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You overlook the garden
and the porch handrail.
Together with your ravens,
off on a sail.
Though I’ve never seen a page turn
or heard a sound from your birds,
I thought for sure you glanced up once,
just at the moment I turned.
You three sail the world
with your concrete tome.
Though as anyone can see
you’d find it difficult to roam.
I take those journeys also,
but I’m jealous of your commitment.
But then perhaps you are jealous of me,
living my life not cemented.

© Joel Tipple
296

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