A song, a blessing on this place.

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 life’s 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.
Oh light come down to earth, be praised!

Olympic Peninsula, Washington, 2010

7 thoughts on “A song, a blessing on this place.

  1. Good selection of a poem for these recent and approaching days.

    I found tonight an essay that helped me appreciate one aspect of Wendell Berry’s work. Here are a few excerpts I thought you might like:

    “Over time, Berry chose his farm’s designated wilderness area as a fit place for Sunday meditation.  The seamlessness and infinite depth of detail and perspective in pristine nature conduce to trance. . . .

     “Like a grove, a sabbath is set apart for rest and thought, removed from worldly claims and distractions. . .

    “The grove [is] an enclave preserving perennial traditions of vital renewal, native and yet strange to present surroundings. . . Berry knows where he stands: in a back corner of a farmstead near Eden, at the center of the earth. The transformation in the view of nature is fundamental and profound.”

    (From what I’ve seen and read, you take your meditative walks in similar places.)


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