Wednesday, May 17, 2006


I smiled this morning as I read this Wendell Berry snippet from his collection Given:

I dream of a quiet man
who explains nothing and defends
nothing, but only knows
where the rarest wildflowers
are blooming, and who goes,
and finds that he is smiling
not by his own will.

1 comment:

  1. John -- thanks for sharing this beautiful poem. I read it a few weeks ago. I was reading David James Duncan on wonder last week (God Laughs & Plays) -- and he wrote about how we are grasped by wonder, rather than wonder grasping us. This poem reminds me of the same thing. Thank you.


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