These books are made of leather,

Hand heavy with trimmings

Brushed in gold.

We open the fronts

A thin few pages

At a time.

We open the backs the same.

Then front.

Then back.

A holy rite

Midward creasing.

We learn that the binding

Breathes this way,

Shivers and settles

Into new life.

Old to ancient words

Popping up

For fresh delights.