Friday, March 10, 2006


This poem by Wendell Berry is in Collected Poems, 1957-1982 (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1987). Today, I saw crocuses and a range of bulbs Becky has planted over the 12 years we've lived on Aberdeen breaking through the early March soil and ground cover. Then I came across Berry's poem.

I made an opening
to reach through blind
into time, through
sleep and silence, to new
heat, a new rising,
a yellow flower opening
in the sound of bees.

Deathly was the giving
of that possibility
to a motion of the world
that would bring it
out, bright, in time.

My mind pressing in
through the earth's
dark motion toward
bloom, I thought of you,
glad there is no escape.
It is this we will be
turning and re-
turning to.

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