by Wendell Berry
It's the immemorial feelings
I like the best: hunger, thirst, their satisfaction; work-weariness, earned rest; the falling again from loneliness to love; the green growth the mind takes from the pastures in March; The gayety in the stride of a good team of Belgian mares that seems to shudder from me through all my ancestry. |
Thursday, March 14, 2013
March Madness
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This lovely poem brought to mind an older one by Wendell Berry, which has a slight Lenten touch:
ReplyDeleteThe clearing rests in song and shade.
It is a creature made
By old light held in soil and leaf,
By human joy and grief,
By human work,
Fidelity of sight and stroke,
By rain, by water on the parent stone.
We join our work to Heaven's gift,
Our hope to what is left,
That fields and woods at last agree
In an economy
Of widest worth,
High Heaven's Kingdom come on earth,
Imagine Paradise.
O dust, arise!
from Sabbaths, 1987