Howard Nemerov, "The Loon's Cry"

"... For signatures
In all things are, which leave us not alone
Even in the thought of death, and may by arts
Contemplative be found and named again."

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Wendell Berry - A Timbered Choir



I go among the trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet
around me like circles on water.
My tasks lie in their places
where I left them, asleep like cattle.

Then what is afraid of me comes
and lives a while in my sight.
What it fears in me leaves me,
and the fear of me leaves it.
It sings, and I hear its song.

Then what I am afraid of comes.
I live for a while in its sight.
What I fear in it leaves it,
and the fear of it leaves me.
It sings and I hear its song.

After days of labor,
mute in my consternations,
I hear my song at last,
and I sing it. As we sing,
the day turns, the trees move.
1979

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