When I was a reader,
spine balanced under palm,
fingers trailing along pages.
words that almost moaned and whispered aloud.
Eyes greedy,
seeking understanding
to know the body –
the work at hand,
moving from page to page,
syllable to syllable,
words that almost moaned and whispered aloud,
the whole growth and breadth of song after song,
the rising chorus,
Caroles and chants, hymns to the body,
the trembling page
underneath my roving hands, fingers, eyes….
words that almost moaned, whispered, screamed….
In joy
When I was a reader… with eyes to see
Writer Moe 