by Wendell Berry
They sit together on the porch, the dark
Almost fallen, the house behind them dark.
Their supper done with, they have washed and dried
The dishes–only two plates now, two glasses,
Two knives, two forks, two spoons–small work for two.
She sits with her hands folded in her lap,
At rest. He smokes his pipe. They do not speak,
And [...]
Posts Tagged ‘Wendell Berry’
They Sit Together on the Porch
Posted in Literature, National Poetry Month 2008, Poetry, Uncategorized, tagged They Sit Together on the Porch, Wendell Berry on April 20, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
. . . caught in the eye. It stays
Posted in Literature, National Poetry Month 2008, Poetry, Writing, creative, tagged Wendell Berry on April 16, 2008 | Leave a Comment »
The Sycamore Gathers
The sycamore gathers
out of the sky, white
in the glance that looks up to it
through the black crisscross
of the window. But it is not a glance
that it offers itself to.
It is no lightning stroke
caught in the eye. It stays,
an old holding in place.
And its white is not so pure
as a glance would have it,
but [...]
