At the Library   It happened at the library — a book was in my lap, the words were songs, the air was made of light, and everywhere I looked   was glass, dancing plasma, cool to the touch and smelling like raspberries. When I took a breath, my eyes began to see with such   clarity and connection, peace and prayer, the undiscovered knowledge of so much more — at the library, or anywhere.     © Michael Fleming Dummerston, Vermont June 2024