Sun, mellow as cheese,
rolls gold over yellow stone bridge,
ducks revealing tail-curls,
as cycling lazily '
mailbag angled in basket '
the postman circles the village
with words from outside.
The bookshop, windows glazed
with latest covers and posters proclaiming
'THE SUMMER BOOK FESTIVAL',
flings open its mouth
to welcome friend and stranger
as rows of shelves host
silent reams of printed paper,
bound, awaiting freedom,
to be lifted up, opened,
devoured by eyes soaking up sentences,
paper money swapped for streams of wisdom,
enticing novels, pregnant poems,
singing storybooks, travel tales,
transporting readers from village
to places dreamt of in a wider world.