Covers open, books turned over

Pages folded, bookmarks sticking up

Books open to the favorite page, dark smudges on favorite passages

Paperbacks with a crease down the middle,

Hardbacks with the bottom of the spine turned up

Fingers running over the spines of books, looking for a favorite title

Joyful hands reaching for the un-owned book

Eyes scanning the price

Arms taking the treasure, protecting it from harm

Feet hurrying out the door, with the successful buy

Sheets rustling as one gets under them

The thrill that runs down the arms as they reach for a well worn book

A sigh of remembrance as the book opens and the plot come back to you

The hunger that one devours the book again with

The soft clap as the book is finished once more

The squeak of the green chair as I sit on it

The comfortable sound of my dad settling in his red chair

My brother sitting on the end of the blue sofa

My mom stretches out on the rest of it

We quiet down, as she begins to read

Putting presents underneath the Christmas tree

Seeing those rectangular parcels that can only be books

Reading Christmas books curled up by the Christmas lights

Looking up and seeing the rest of my family doing the same

There is no doubt about it,

My people are reading people.