Poem
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Wendell Berry never ceases to amaze me. Here, I am reminded of the hours my father spent behind one of those old clunky VHS camcorders of the late 1980s. Rather than taking part in our family vacations, he served as video historian and ended up watching us and everything we experienced through a small lens,…
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Autumn has always been my favorite season. Perhaps my birthday coming shortly after the autumnal equinox has biased me in favor of this rich time of harvest and change, but as I meditated on turning forty-six and my desire to live to be one hundred years old, the following sonnet emerged. I struggled to capture…
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This poem needs no introduction. As the temperatures dropped to the high fifties on Friday and I slipped into one of my favorite hoodies, I knew Autumn had arrived. No better way to celebrate the changing of the seasons than to read “To Autumn” by John Keats. Grab a cup of hot cider, sit down…
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Summer draws to a close, a new week begins, and I return to the deepening ground of Mary Oliver’s poetry. Hear the invitation to spend our lives “on some / unstinting happiness,” but not according to the world’s definition. Rather, the simple overlooked gifts that poets like Mary Oliver and Wendell Berry capture so beautifully.…
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At the end of long weekend, I returned to the wisdom of Wendell Berry. Oh, for the peace of simple things and the dumb life of roots! (If you haven’t read The Peace of Wild Things, then you MUST follow this link to hear Wendell Berry read the powerful companion piece and fitting follow-up to…
the deepening ground 