In celebration of books,
Stacks and stacks of books,
Filling bags,
Piled on floors.
Shelved on bookcases,
Tucked here and there,
Under beds,
On couches,
Side tables and the ottoman.
By topic,
By author,
By illustrator,
By publisher.
Of all types, shapes, and sizes.
Old and new,
And very, very old,
Signed.
Arriving at the house in packages,
From book sales,
The library,
Consignment stores,
Thrift stores,
From friends,
Little Free Libraries,
Scholastic book fairs,
Barefoot Books boxes shipped to me.
Fiction. Non-fiction. Poetry. Wordless.
A celebration of a love,
The magic found in words and pictures,
The handheld page,
The smell!
I live for stacks of books.
There is nothing better.
To open a book,
To search a shelf,
My stacks.
About the Poem
One day I was looking at the stacks of books around my house. Not the kind of stacks you get when you’re a hoarder. These are the stacks of a busy family, a family who loves to learn, a family who homeschools, a mom who runs a book fair, and who is also an independent bookseller. And most of all a family who loves to read. I made a mental note to spend time on the weekend organizing the books, putting them back onto their shelves. But then I realized the books would migrate right back to their stacks. And so, in the spur of the moment, I jotted this poem. I hope you enjoy it. And I hope you have stacks of books too!
Little Robot
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