Poetry Friday: "Reading to My Kids" by Kevin Carey

Reading aloud to my daughters is a part of their childhood that I remember with deep and iridescent affection. And since we homeschooled, we read aloud almost every day, almost every evening, almost all the time. I loved it, they loved it. Certainly, on days when my voice gave out, or I was tired or crabby, it wasn't perfect, but it was always there: part of our rhythm, our breath. Our bookish hearts craved it, and thanks to those days and that practice, we share a galaxy of sparkling memories. 

So, this poem by Kevin Carey not only spoke to me, it jumped up and down, waved its arms, and said, "Listen! Yes! I get it." ❤️

Reading to My Kids
by Kevin Carey

When they were little I read
to them at night until my tongue
got tired. They would poke me
when I started to nod off after twenty pages
of Harry Potter or Lemony Snicket.
I read (to them) to get them to love reading
but I was never sure if it was working
or if it was just what I was supposed to do.
But one day, my daughter (fifteen then)
was finishing Of Mice and Men in the car
on our way to basketball.
She was at the end when I heard her say,
No, in a familiar frightened voice
and I knew right away where she was.

....

(Read the rest of this short jewel here, at The Writer's Almanac.) 

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Head to Molly Hogan's place, Nix the Comfort Zone, for this week's poetry round-up. 

Photo courtesy of Pixabay.