cybrarian

once upon a time,
a long time ago,
before the days of cybrarians
and wikis and webs,
we wandered the stacks
browsing and collecting
like rummagers
at a yard sale.
here was Defoe and Whitman,
here Tolkien and Dickens,
Austens and Brontes
and good old Willy Shakes.
here the mysteries
and the histories.
there a trashy summer romance
with a long-haired Lothario
swashbuckling across the cover.
we did our reports
by flipping through
card catalogues
intrepidly,
Dewey's decimals our guide.
and with encyclopedia
and compendia
we sat and flipped
and jotted and noted.
we scrolled through microfiche
and felt like spies.
rainy Saturdays we spent thus
and bibliophiles thus were we made
under the watchful gaze
from behind a desk,
shepherding and shushing and suggesting,
of the Librarian -
omnipotent, so it seemed.
and though it all is so much easier
and quicker now to find
to research or rewind...
what adventure is to be had
on a laptop or phone?
what serendipitous accidents
or last minute acquisitions
as you walk to the checkout?
what mystery lost?
what love gained
for the smell of leather
and the accomplishment
earned by the weight
and the page?