Walking Home From the Library
by Pax Morrigan
Like feathered snowflakes gull flocks swirl
above white linden crowns, the frosted twigs
too insubstantial for their furrowed feet.
My back is warmed by books. A layered shield,
a page by page protection from edged wind
and beak-sharp stares of frigid passersby.
I hide my eyes with birds and trees. A child-
like thrill, invisible to strangers’ looks. I would
not wish my stride to still. I hasten home,
below closed covers unknown realms await. A wealth
of far-flung grounds drawn near by foreign brains.
Human deprived yet profoundly humane,
more intimate than warm-blooded people
passed in the street on a walk. Let’s not talk.
Let us sit down here and read side by side.