A Poetry Mood

I was in a poetry mood. I have several poetry books on my bookshelves. Most of my favorites are well-loved old paperbacks held together by rubber bands; but my mood required the feel of a heavy book with a solid cover, so I skipped the regulars and headed for my more occasional volumes. I rediscovered a large book given to me by my grandfather-in-law before his death in 1995, entitled Masterpieces of Religious Verse. I love the scope of this book, over two thousand poems written by men and women of various nationalities and religious backgrounds.

The poetry is, for the most part, quite good. A few poems are actually masterpieces. But what makes this book a treasure is that it belonged to Grandpa for thirty years before it belonged to me. In those thirty years, he copied out other poems that spoke to him; and those little bits of paper written in his distinctive hand are still tucked into the book right where he placed them. In those thirty years, he pressed flowers and leaves between the pages of this heavy book where they still sleep, soft and supple, not yet crumbly.

This book was a gift from one poet to another and the weight of it fills me up. This was just the right book for today. With a cup of tea. Near the wood stove. Just right.