I found this while researching for my poetry presentation. It didn’t fit the presentation guidelines, but I saved it for poetry Friday.
You are reading a book and you think you know
the end, but others can’t wait- they crowd
on the shelves, breathing. You stop and look around.
It is the best time: evening is coming,
a bronze haze has captured the sun,
lights down the street to come
You turn the page carefully. Over your shoulder
another day has watched you what you do
and written it down in that book
you can’t read till all the pages are done.
William Stafford
I like that very much.
Great poem!
Hay