Sabbath
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If you haven’t read yesterday’s post, you won’t fully appreciate what Wendell Berry offers in this haikuesque poem of just three lines. Come away from modernity to be still enough to catch this passing moment before the looming shadows of daily life hide, once again, the extraordinary deepening grounds waiting in plain sight. XX (2012)
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Flipping through my copy of Wendell Berry’s This Day: Collected & New Sabbath Poems, I found myself drawn to the poems that conclude the volume, echoes of the Mad Farmer filling the pages. Try as I might to find a softer piece for this post, I kept returning to this poem and the haunting refrain,
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Savoring the pace of summer here at home with my family! Sure, there are projects that need to be addressed such as the “new” doors that need to be stained from the addition we put on back in 2020. I need to touch up the rust spots on the van and the garlic needs to
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Sabbath Poem II (1995) by Wendell Berry The best reward in going to the woods Is being lost to other people, and Lost sometimes to myself. I’m at the end Of no bespeaking wire to spoil my goods; I send no letter back I do not bring. Whoever wants me now must hunt me down
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Admittedly, I should have posted this yesterday to allow you all the time to Sabbath either on Saturday or Sunday with this Wendell Berry wafer. But as these days are full with life and activity, this post had to wait until now. And yet, the timelessness of Berry’s wisdom about “how to be alive” ever
the deepening ground 