Portrait of a Vermont Farmer
In his next incarnation he will be a Polynesian spear-fisherman, balanced easily on an outrigger as the sapphire lagoon undulates beneath him, watching the fish scatter away like silver coins dropped in the sea. He will plow the pellucid sea and harrow the waves and harvest fish as plump and yellow as Iowa corn.
In his next life he will be a boulevardier, idling away the late morning in an elegant but discreet pâtisserie, savouring the quiet and regarding with relish the day as it stretches out before him, absolutely unimpeded by any sort of meaningful activity. In the afternoon he will indolently scatter suggestions like seed corn and in the evening reap in the resulting invitations.
In his next manifestation he will be a science fiction novelist, imagining worlds where old men in bib overalls who work long and hard with little or no recognition are lauded, where an allegiance to place and purpose are seen as admirable, and a willingness to till the soil and tend the land is perceived as an act of holiness.
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