I love how books begin; those passages
that lead us by the hand across
the luxurious lawns, that portage us
gently up the gravel drive,
toward the manor house.
The author is still a kind host here,
anxious that we mingle
with the other weekend guests, that we note
how even the banisters are polished for us,
that we feel free to walk out
with the lady of the house and smoke
a cigarette, down the grand alley of elms.
We’re not expected to have things down pat
yet, like the family tree, or the route to the old Abbey.
Nothing really happens now,
beyond the delivery of the breakfast trays.
It’s not scheduled to rain.
for two more chapters, and no one
who matters to us has died yet.
Chapter One by Mark Aiello from 180 More: Extraordinary Poems for Every Day
I’ve spent most of the weekend cleaning and putting things aside from my upcoming trip, and I am still trying to finalize my reading lists for the reading challenges I’m planning to join so bear with me a bit more while I make up my mind. I tell you though, it has been tons of fun going through my stacks and stacks of unread books while I look for the perfect books.