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Céréales & Tubercules Manioc 2018

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Brian Michael Barbeito<br />

BLUE BLUE BLUE BLUE BLUE SKY AND THE BOUNCING<br />

LEAVES IN THE LOQUACIOUS WIND THAT WINDS<br />

The sky there and all around was blue as the dense and opaque cloud covering finally left after<br />

overstaying its welcome. Man, it had been around for weeks it seemed. One starts to wonder<br />

if there is a sky up there after all. I was so quietly content that the blue blue blue blue blue<br />

still existed. And there were not many people in the places I ventured to the past days. Lots of<br />

walking and wandering and photo taking, though not too much writing afterwards for some<br />

reason. In the grand fields a rabbit ran for cover under some faded logs, flaxen and smooth<br />

from the sun. There were also some berries, against reason I say, - waiting as if they were in<br />

the summer sun or some robust August afternoon! I went down to a small frozen over pond,<br />

- and thought I was far enough on the sides, - but the ice broke and I was in to the knees. At<br />

that point some mud or vacuum of nature (both actually), - plus gravity and the dynamic fall,<br />

- seemed to really grab the right foot and keep a hold of it. If I didn’t know better, I would<br />

think there is such a thing as a swamp monster. However, I remained calm amidst my minor<br />

calamity, - and got out of there. The walking was wet, to say the least, - and it’s no fun driving<br />

home in soaked muddy dirty shoes, socks, and pants. Yet, - for all that, - the reeds and sky and<br />

few clouds, - the air and the spaciousness were worth it.<br />

The second day I went to a different place, an old stomping grounds, - and stayed clear of water<br />

save for the smallest little river bed (hardly noticeable) - that we passed in order that the canines<br />

might get a nice fresh drink. What was around there? Some black birds, - the sounds of<br />

nature- spring trying to break through, - but again- the word is for certain ‘spaciousness.’ The<br />

wind came and when it did it was loquacious and fresh and interested in the wide spaces and<br />

the bush both. Ground, - hardly any more ice, - actual footing, - sturdy and terrene and earthy.<br />

There is some scat and prints from the nocturnal wildlife that inhabits the world of moon,<br />

dark, mystery. I think perhaps coyotes or maybe even just raccoons or something. In the distance<br />

is a farm, - and after the farm a feed corn field. Surrounding there are some more berry<br />

trees, many Birch trees. If one field is so different than the next (which it is when you get to<br />

know them), - imagine the difference between Mississippi and Missouri, between North Bay<br />

and Northern California, between different parts of the East Coast, or Africa, China, Russia,<br />

the rest,- the millions and trillions of places. There would not be enough lifetimes! So,- we go<br />

on our little sojourns or adventures to local green lands and woodlands and are happy in that,<br />

searching for the cosmic in the local, the sacred in the silly, the grand in the giddy, the gem in<br />

the bushes, the golden secreted gnosis amidst the old leaves brown and deceased that I saw<br />

bouncing along in the wind,- not happy in death,- no,- but not sad either,- just contented,- or<br />

Zen like- bouncing bouncing twirling travelling there over pebble and under blue sky right in<br />

the middle of the afternoon for the wind that visits the earth.

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