The tattered paperbacks
sit on my bookshelf.
Once in awhile I weed through
them and decide which ones
are ready for the donation basket.
Some, I cannot part with.
wrinkles from splashes of
and drips of
"who knows what" on
I can pick up the books of James Herriot
and be lost in the sweetness of animal and
animal people stories for hours. I have read them all
before, but never tire of reading them again and again.
Today I was taping them together and dusting them
off and wondering why I hang on to this collection.
I should just buy a new set, but I have such good
memories of winters spent with James Herriot in the
pages of these beat up old books that I just can't part with them.
All Creatures, Great and Small. The Lord God made them all.