the language of flowers and more
A million years ago, in what now seems another life, I worked full-time at the Farm, but also worked part-time at a little, liberal arts school nearby called Simons Rock. Though I don't have many fond memories of my short time there--I worked a shift once a week that consisted of me working a full day at the Farm, taking an hour nap, wolfing down dinner, then working a 6p.m.-1a.m. shift--what was I thinking?!--I did have the pleasure of seeing poet Rita Dove's poetry reading there. Not just because I'm a librarian, but because this is the kid I was in some ways, my favorite poem that Dove read that night, which Dove said is her, "love poem to librarians." The poem has crept back to me and I am reading it again and smiling. "Maple Valley Branch Library, 1967" For a fifteen-year-old there was plenty to do: Browse the magazines, slip into the Adult Section to see what vast tristesse was born of rush-hour traffic, décolletés, and the plague of ...