(inspired by James Rebanks’ interview with Richard Fidler)
I picture
an old man –
a farmer –
perhaps a little bent
perhaps with eyes
so faded
the blue itself
is a memory.
He is like a river-mouth
the collected silt
of decades’ knowledge
about the earth
and seasons’ ebb and flow
deposited in his brain.
He is free
like a cormorant is free.
Life is not perfect
or lazy
or easy
and he must still eat.
But he has eschewed
Schopenhauer’s unhappy cycle
of desire, gratification, new desire
and found satisfaction
in the seasonal dance
of weather, wildlife and wit;
the year-in, year-out slog;
the sometimes itchy
reliability of community;
the deep, brown secrets
of the soil.
His freedom comes
from being okay with
imperfections.
I’m there, nice,
cheers http://www.the hobartchinaman.wordpress.com
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This is wonderful.
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Thank you!
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