By Dave Healy
It was a long haul. Renovations to the St. Anthony Park Branch Library took much longer than expected, and the library was closed for much of the summer. When it finally reopened, a celebration was in order.
There was something else to celebrate as well: two new trees planted on the library’s front lawn. They were purchased by the St. Anthony Park Branch Library Association, which organized the celebration, held Sept. 20 in front of the library.
The event included games, an art table, music, information tables by local nonprofits, refreshments and a poetry slam.
Original poems were read about trees, libraries, words and community. Some of the poems from the poetry slam are posted below…
Dave Healy lives in St. Anthony Park and is a former editor of the Bugle.
Let’s Meet on the Library Lawn
Let’s meet on the library lawn
Under trees planted
So long ago
People my mother’s age
Were not alive
Let’s meet on the library lawn
And say what we have read
That disarmed us
That delighted us
Or made us shiver
Let’s meet on the library lawn
Then go inside
Where low voices
Guide us gently
Or erupt into giggles
Let’s meet on the library lawn
To return what we borrowed
So others can savor
What we hold in common
Ownership undisputed
Let’s meet on the library lawn
To hold open the doors
For bashful strangers
Who might one day
Become our friends
Let’s meet on the library lawn
To watch the parade
We’ll stand at attention
As the free and brave
March together as one
Let’s meet on the library lawn
So our ancestors might see
How we resemble them
As readers and neighbors
Bending toward books
By Helen Warren
At the Library
Walking in the door
one could be forgiven
for thinking that the
place is a museum: quiet
full of curated objects
all carefully arranged.
But these objects are
not kept behind glass.
They’re to be touched
pulled from their shelves
lingered over leisurely
perhaps even taken home.
Like holdings in a museum
these can be a window to the
past but also to the future.
As Emily Dickinson knew
they are frigates to bear us lands away.
Away away. Anchors aweigh
my boys and girls. Cast off
from shore and set your course
for parts unknown. Row row
your boats gently down life’s streams
your only cargo a load of books
to take you to a land of dreams.
By Dave Healy