The shelves, like his mind, are stuffed with books
And there are piles of them, neatly stacked
On tables throughout the house
More sit, tiny towers, on available floor space
(I was a strong swimmer, easily coming around again)
Some of the books have never been opened
Purchased over the years in an ‘aha’ moment
To be read when the time was right
If that moment of matched thought ever surfaced again
(I’ve learned a good deal from those laps that I’ve swum)
His habit is to cruise the house scanning
The titles to find one that fits the moment’s mood
Appeals to him as relevant at that instant
Touches on something he’s been thinking about
(College trained me to swim through title wave after wave)
Then he peruses a page or two, not from the beginning
But randomly chosen, to see if what he reads appeals to him
And if not, he puts it back and continues his rounds
Searching for something that strikes a harmonious chord
(I’ve been swimming ever since through page after page)
In time many of the books will be dipped into
But many will never be read
Because the mood at the moment of purchase
May never match that of the current search again
(I’m treading water now, my arms tiring with age
And I wonder if I’ll see the next searching wave these days)
Lanning Lee 