In my busy, small town,

On the pavement

Beside the doorway of a small shop,

A battered wire basket

Full of varied books with faded covers

And a thickly scribbled note: 'Help yourself!'

 

'Ah,' I thought, 'Someone has died.

Probably elderly.

The books look weathered.

And Somebody is clearing out stuff.

A somebody who cannot bear

To trash or torch a book.

Just like me.'

 

So I lifted out a small volume:

'Learning English',

One of those old, thin textbooks

With concise rules

To best learn communication skills,

Full of writing exercises to cement them.

On that fine, old principle:

'Understand, Practise and Use!'

 

The book fell open in my hand.

And at the top of the right hand page,

In bold print: WE THINK WITH WORDS.

I gasped, 'How brilliantly put is that.

The basic purpose of all language!

I needed that potent reminder.

Thank you, Somebody, for this book.'

And so - it becomes my 'stuff'.

 

 

 

Cynthia Buell Thomas, Mar. 2020