taken from "the satisfactions of the mad farmer"

by wendell berry

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"Growing weather; enough rain...

the peach tree bent with its yield..."

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"the ground, new worked, moist

and yielding underfoot, the feet

comfortable in it as roots;"

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"raspberries ripe and heavy amid their foliage...

strawberries red ripe with the white

flowers still on the vines - picked

with the dew on them, before breakfast;"

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"grape clusters heavy under broad leaves,

powdery bloom on fruit black with a sweetness

- an ancient delight, delighting;"

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"the bodies of women in loose cotton,

cool and closed in the evenings

of summer, like contented houses;"

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"the bodies of men, able in the heat

and sweat and weight and length

of the day's work, eager in their spending,

attending to nightfall, the bodies of women;"

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"sleep after love, dreaming

white lilies blooming

coolly out of the flesh;"

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"after sleep, enablement

to go on with work, morning a clear gift;"

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"the maidenhood of the day,

cobwebs unbroken in the dewy grass;"

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"the work of feeding and clothing and housing,

done with more than enough knowledge

and with more than enough love,

by those who do not have to be told..."

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"the talk of friends, lightened and cleared

by all that can be assumed..."

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"live streams, live shiftings

of the sun in the summer woods..."

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"the quiet in the woods of a summer morning,

the voice of a peewee passing through it

like a tight silver wire;"

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"a little clearing among cedars,

white clover and wild strawberries

beneath an opening to the sky

- heavenly, i thought it,

so perfect; had i foreseen it

i would have desired it

no less than it deserves;"

*

"what i know of spirit is astir

in the world. the god i have always expected

to appear at the wood's edge, beckoning,

i have always expected to be

a great relisher in this world, its good

grown immortal in his mind."

*

i love wendell berry's prose. deeply experiential, richly meaningful and simply spoken. i've been reading his collected poems over the past couple of weeks, and i'm falling even more in love with his words. while we were camping the weekend before last, callie read us a couple of his poems as we fell asleep, all four of us scrunched together in the tent. i drifted into and out of sleep, callie's quiet voice trailing through the verses....

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i've been collecting ideas, in my head, of the satisfactions i have realized here on the farm...but i'm too tired now to continue...but i will, in time...