Between the rivers

Some rivers
wind through sand
some through stone
where stacks of books
slowly bear
the casual
fingering,
when students look
from valleys
still
to shelves high
from worn carpets
clutching papers
frayed.
Some rivers
are in the mind
they flow
from youth
to nights alone
where wind
wears down
the casual
lingering
in lines
that wait
for morning’s
light.