poetry

Rite-in-the-Rain

Rite-in-the-Rain

it’s the kind with the lines
even though I didn’t want it to be
last time I called up
and bought them out of unlined ones –
yes, I had that much adventure already planned
or at least expected –
but this time there were no more unlined ones left to buy

always the bright yellow cover
to stand out against moss, mud, pine duff, sand, snow
what else is that yellow?
maybe the ray flowers of sunflowers
the feathers of warblers
avalanche lilies
yellow stoplights (well, go cautiously lights)
the spots of tiger salamanders
some certain lichens
maybe the sun itself
(though you can’t be sure
from the sideways glances we’re limited to)

the pages are a little thicker stiffer rougher
than ordinary notebooks
to hold pen or pencil even underwater
to make your words as near permanent
as a thing easily left for years
on a dusty shelf can make them

it’s a little too big for a pocket
so you must either carry it like a prayer book
or a primer held by a barefoot schoolchild
from a one-room schoolhouse
or plan ahead and bring a satchel
but it’s best for that bag to stay open –
no zippers or clasps or catches
so there’s nothing to resist you
when you have the urge to open

it smells of must
of labs and field stations
and people with the word “Forester” after their names
it connotes the seriousness and objectivity of data
of a universal reality that will be recorded
by someone with training in perception
who knows how to take the measure of an experience
and make it replicable for someone else

except for the lines, there’s nothing I would change about it
except that yesterday I finished filling it
and have no need for more

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