A sky west crowded domain Ottawa and agreeable future. So says the peace of mind in accordance with the finger weather. By a beer bar beet-faced friendly working men and women chattering about like a lonely conversation. Numerous searches for a friend simple. A street clean courtesy of fruits and legumes grown by the pickers and sold by their daughters speak french on the corner. Blessed by love of success, good money and people, her black hair begets wind, red kerchief and enthusiastic cackle. Through tea window, patchwork colours of canvas fruit stalls, ducks and hens caged, carrots, peppers and radishes, fifty acres of garden farm soil. Delicious Ontario farmland. Given the highway, given the tall building, given the helicopter scan for presence, in their orderly height of confusion. Welcome the berries to the sumac bush.
It's the great nonsense leaf I believe in. The rum skunk, the back grove. One cloudy day is bigger than the whole war television to me. That's how I watch a girl selling vegetables so enthusiastically she doesn't see me. One ambrosial diversion is permissible: the invisible language music love. Generations of children kingdom come. Whatever your pleasure myself and my friends have tasted of your concerns. One by one we cross the continents making big mistakes. The all-knowing farmer God as you know him patiently understands us but doesn't give a damn. It is this freedom that makes me laugh. I walk the crowded streets of every city and every soul is a naked strip tease of ecstatic light. Nothing could be dirtier than these amorous open books to me. They so excite me that I must consult my wisdom for guidance.
When a girl on a bicycle smiles, that is a smile. You have examined a leaf, a rock and a brain and you have painted a sunset with your human ways. My circles of boat thought drift wider and wider into a concentric nothing. You are so detailed and great and I am nothing as air. I blow you away and together we float in a parade of delight.
Copyright 1985 & 2007 by Robert Ronnow.