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Céréales & Tubercules Manioc 2018

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Brian Michael Barbeito<br />

The Silent Snow and the White World<br />

It was really something, the way the snow wafted down so silently and nobody was in the entire<br />

forest then. Two large birds alighted on a tree became startled and flew the way they do in<br />

movies, the way they do when you are right by them and they sound like big sheets or rugs in<br />

impossibly fast wind. Then, there were two quite little birds; I don’t know their names, on a tree<br />

at the top of the valley when I can out from such. Unlike the large birds they did not fly away<br />

and I thought, - Oh hi birdie hi. The forest then was sacrosanct and silent, a guiding force, a<br />

refuge and I was free inside of it. What would I do and where would I go? I saw some old red<br />

sumac that always seems not old but bright and new and welcoming. I think the sumac knows<br />

something, is aware of things, - but non-linear, Gnostic knowings. I inhaled the air, pure and<br />

clean. I saw a squirrel, and the distant tree lines, and sand, pebble, bushes, leaves, hilly places<br />

and flat ones. The snow though. It came down everywhere like a silent song, like a wonderful<br />

waking dream or vision, - millions and billions and more of flakes. Where did it come from?<br />

The sky, yes, - but beyond that? Source. The great hollow empty source of all things, giving out<br />

snow on a Friday afternoon as I walked alone with the canines and we were again, so blessed, so<br />

imperial but humble also,- so story-like. The forest is one of the world’s most interesting open<br />

secrets. Has to be. There is no way it is not. Labyrinthine shapes inside the logs where bugs<br />

made mazes under the bark. Valleys that perhaps house spirits. Shades. Colors. Contours. A<br />

well of delight and mystery. The snow intensified and the sky was white, the ground was white,<br />

the world, was, well…you know.

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