It's been a busy week with teacher workshops, preparations for the start of school next Tuesday, and visiting my mom who is still in the hospital but mending nicely.
So, I've been reading the same book all week and am just about done.
This morning Sunday Scribblings posted "Somewhere..." as a prompt and I came up with the following poem about reading:
Every time I pick up a book
somewhere becomes real.
Each page is a wing;
each word a footstep.
Somewheres sit on my bookshelves,
a line of geographies.
Today I’m going to visit
the Boston area in two eras
as I finish The Bone Garden
by Tess Gerritsen, who is from Maine.
Tomorrow, another somewhere
will whisk me away.