Stirring Stews

Articles

Stirring Stews

By Brian Michael Barbeito
July 19, 2007

We want the lights from the sky, and omens from the courtyards full of promise. We also want women in autumn sweaters walking and they have jeans and dark eyes and maybe diamonds in their pockets and hopefully light in their eyes. Actually, there has to be light in their eyes…some knowing sparkle or semi-secret ease. We want the leaves falling like leaves fall when you are in the mist and rain and in love. Also, it would be good if all the slow cookers of the world were trashed and people used old metal ones and watched them, stirring stews, slowly in forever Saturday afternoons, and there is a tinge of sadness too. Hopefully in acres of land there is a wise owl and happy crickets joyful at existence where the creek goes through. The wind will ebb and flow, and if we want, we can have a drink, but maybe not. We need a myth, a new myth, but we aren’t sure exactly what it is yet. The clapboard and the well where the lightning bugs dance overhead. We need to accept, because we have no choice. There, in the atmosphere of existence, the whole will have given us over eighty years, and we will wear warm cotton shirts and proud hearts. Night is coming and it is blessed. We want to think of silver and books and astral wanderings. We would like benevolent ghosts to converse with, and a compass or a pocketknife. The nights could last forever. Others might aspire to the Greek Islands, or to affluence, ambition, and position. We will try and think about other things, not because we are better, but because we are built differently. We want our souls, and we will reclaim them, even as our days are numbered and the dramas still play out in the sometimes-wicked world. We want the light.

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Email Brian Michael Barbeito: Brian1750@Hotmail.com

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