Slowly, slowly, they return To the small woodland let alone: Great trees, outspreading and upright, Apostles of the living light. Patient as stars, they build in air Tier after tier a timbered choir, Stout beams upholding weightless grace Of song, a blessing on this place. They stand in waiting all around, Uprisings of their native ground, Downcomings of the distant light; They are the advent they await. Receiving sun and giving shade, Their lifes a benefaction made, And is a benediction said Over the living and the dead. In fall their brightened leaves, released, Fly down the wind, and we are pleased To walk on radiance, amazed. O light come down to earth, be praised! -- Wendell Berry, Sabbath Poems (1986, I)
Posted on: Sat, 30 Nov 2013 17:53:17 +0000
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