Joshua Paul Bocher

The smell of moist soil;
The ecstatic chirping of birds;

Sunshine peeking through the clouds.
Me, glancing out a window,

Sitting in a library alone,
Hidden among the stacks:

So many tasks to do,
A month may not be enough;

So many books to read,
A lifetime would not be enough;

I put my head in my arms
And try to take a nap.