The Wind and the Rain, and: Conservation Theory, and: Vespers, and: Shutdown, and: The "I Want" Song Rachel Richardson (bio) The Wind and the Rain In those first weeks—first because she was newly arrived, and so the scene had resetas unfamiliar, a blank line, even though for others it was the middle of a project at the office or a round of bloodwork or simply another February—in those days, weeks, her first of feeling windon her face and her mother's (my) hand at her forehead, shielding the skin from rain, the neighbors had mostly taken down the lit balls that blazed in trees from Thanksgiving through the darkest days, and wet yellow leaves clogged the gutters, slicking sidewalks. Someone had given us a fish hat,bit of whimsy, a chartreuse knit whose softness seemed right for someone so newly born, that jarring color and the fin swaying atop her head. She was bunched to my chest, so it swayed at my heart. Little fish, swept along the sidewalks of a pallid college town, raining and between rains. [End Page 119] Then bursts of sun from breaches in the pillowed clouds. Her mouth opened in an asymmetrical yawn because of a paralyzed lip— fairly common, the doctor said, and after she learns your expressions you'll only see it when she cries. Open, shut. Cry, be calmed. She wriggles into spring, the days get longer, andprobably it is here in the story that, down the street, a cluster of Nina's cellsbegin to mutate, though it will be another year before she feels the lump. Shakespeare's fools always let us in on the truth of the scene when the dramatic figures are too busy, caught in their morning plans, suiting up in the handmaid's skirts,writing a love note in a disguised hand. The way Feste, under clear skiesafter the royals' double wedding, skips offstage singing and the rain, it raineth every day. [End Page 120] Conservation Theory Turns out, if you love a forest, you're supposed to live in a small house.You're supposed to accept your grandmother's hand-me-down sewingrocker instead of snatching up the sectional at the liquidation sale.Turns out the forest is a family, so you don't cut down the elders. You need to learn about soil and beetles, heart rot, and the price of lumber in China. Turns out the world is not the silence under a crown of redwoods, not mostly. If you want a forest you should buy the trees. If you want a forestyou should deed them to the conservationists to keep from yourdescendants' desires. Zillow hungers for a listing. Treed lots photograph so beautifully,framing the dappled light. Turns out the price of lumber in China is going up up up. You're notsupposed to love a thing that costs so much to keep in the ground. The loggers are waiting. The local economy is counting on you. It's not your fault you loved to run your hand along smooth floorboardsas a child; it's not your fault you took the sweet air for granted. You grew tall in the shadows of great houses. [End Page 121] Vespers Lord, let me never start a forest fire.May my birth not herald the deathof a thousand doves.Lord, in this time of uncertainty, may I milkclear liquid from my breast, may themicroparticles of plastics not enterthe placenta. Lord, let them not enterthe blood. I will do better, Lord, atthy bidding, I will walk where'er I travel.In my body, Lord, is thy feast,I will preserve it as I preserve the habitatof the monarch butterfly in milkweedplanted up the length of my driveway.Lord, let me turn off notifications,turn away from membership pointsand free gifts with purchase.Let the electric grid cut me off.Lord, your endings are always in sighteven as you overcome us with abundance.Let me reach inbox zero, let me proceedas I wish to have begun. Let not my creakingbody distract you from...
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