On my screen, the answer feels right

and I admire the elegance of it, a worthy use

of the publication that inspired it.

 

At the desk my father stands, extending

invisible tendrils that reach out to each shelf,

searching for books that will serve a need.

 

He knows each volume, the wisdom it holds,

unerringly guiding the borrower to his goal,

by section, shelf and Dewey number.

 

No scholar he, but the gatekeeper to knowledge,

guarding it, preserving it, a facilitator

of learning for those who would pursue it.

 

Each questor is enlightened with clues,

suggestions to hunt down the kernels

that will further advance understanding.

 

I am one such, a user rather than hoarder.

He may practice husbandry of the known,

but I will venture on to seek out the unknown.