A House of Readers

Photo courtesy of PublicDomainPictures.net

A House of Readers

At 9:42 on this May morning
the children's rooms are concentrating too.
Like a tendril growing toward the sun, Ruth
moves her book into a wedge of light
that settled on the floor like a butterfly.
She turns a page.
Fred is immersed in magic, cool
as a Black Angus belly-deep in a farm pond.

The only sounds: pages turning softly.
This is the quietness
of bottomland where you can hear only the young corn
growing, where a little breeze stirs the blades
and then breathes in again.

I mark my place.
I listen like a farmer in the rows.

~ Jim Wayne Miller

I love all of the farm images in this poem -- and also the picture it paints of the various family members reading.  I hope you all will get the chance to immerse yourselves in some magic this weekend.... :)