A trip to the library nets a bounty of books
Tucked awkwardly ‘neath my baby’s teenage arm,
An overflowing canvas bag burping
A couple dozen straining spines and corners.

Arriving home, the stacks comes out 
To teeter invitingly on the couch
Between a pair of giggling, guessing bibliophiles.
They display a title, I try to divine the plot,
Judge the book by its cover,
Laugh and clap when I hit the mark,
Take note of the ones I want to sneak to my own TBR.

My son scoffs as he passes through
On his latest kitchen rummaging trip.
But, drawn in to our web of words,
Lurks and attends, can’t resist joining in,
Tossing out his own speculation
To dovetail onto mine,
Lingering to learn if he’s right.