I used to haunt B&N regularly, hunting for the newest NIVs and scooping up copies of classics and old favorites in the used book section. I tried not to drool as I scanned freshly printed PBs –and got a little high on the sharp scent of ink on pristine paper. I made a list of new and worthy titles to pick up at the library too. Well… I couldn’t buy everything.

Last week, I went back to B&N for a treat. But I was shocked to find what’s been done to the “Kids” section. It looked like Toys R Us had taken over. There were rows and rows of toys for tots and babies. The YA section had been consolidated and moved far, far away. Empty shelves now occupy much of the wall space. There used to be an entire long wall of hardcover PBs –new and old favorites as well. There was a whole other section for paperback PB favorites. Now it pretty much looks like a wasteland.

I know the whole e-reader, Nook book –Kindle craze is hot, but I didn’t realize it was poised to clear the shelves. The look on my grandson's face when I read him Chicka Chicka Boom-Boom, or Go Dog Go is priceless. I can’t bear the thought of my him not having a paper and ink book to cradle as he reads to his children. There’s a cosmic experience you just can’t get from holding a flat, cold piece of metal and plastic in your hands. You miss the flavor and scent of the experience. It’s a robbing of the senses.

So what’s a set-in-her-ways book baby supposed to do?

Baby steps.

Buy books for baby gifts.

Birthday gifts.

Housewarming gifts.

Graduation gifts.

Holiday gifts.

Happy day gifts.

You get the picture. My grandson will be getting A Lot of books. 

There's great power
in simple thoughts,
but each  
must push you forward.

I picture them rising
to the top of my glass
like sweet cream

casting me out
into unknown waters
wide with the promise
of adventure.

For today
I say
Make It happen,
breathing hope
like fresh air.

The first day

is crammed with newness.

Graphic tees, dark jeans,

and flirty skirts, lingering

with the scent

of untested body sprays.

Virginal notebooks,

inviting the marks of

inky, black doodles

and scrawled notes.

 
Freshly painted halls lining

a linoleum highway,

radiating with the pungent scent

of industrial polish.

 
And the slim chance 

for reinvention, lurking,

like a shadow

tempting to be

taken.

SURVIVOR

       By

© by Andria Warmflash Rosenbaum

She gathers strength like tiny field flowers

though medication

radiation

burns as if she's locked in the furnace

beside Abraham.

She holds laughter like blooming bouquets

inhales hope

filling her lungs with little joys.

Battles transform

into badges of courage.

Gathering grins,

she pins them

like a diamond broach upon her chest

and claims today.

Step by step

day by day

month by month

she gleans time

vowing never to bow

before tomorrow.

TIDE POOLS

 (c) 2010 by Andria Warmflash Rosenbaum

Like giants

we tip-toe

between the tide pools,

hunting

tumbled treasures,

in watery islands

stranded

between sand and sea.

We spy

silver slivers

of fish flashing by

as if they could fly,

stay still

watching crabby crews

share the news,

of a wet, wet

world--

curled shells 

carried

on their backs

their only

concession to 

possession.