The Wild Geese, Wendell Berry

The Wild Geese

 

Horseback on Sunday morning,

harvest over, we taste persimmon

and wild grape, sharp sweet

of summer's end.  In time's maze

over the fall fields, we name names

that went west from here, names

that rest on graves.  We open

a persimmon seed to find the tree

that stands in promise,

pale, in the seed's marrow.

Geese appear high over us,

pass, and the sky closes.  Abandon,

as in love or sleep, holds

them to their way, clear,

in the ancient faith: what we need

is here.  And we pray, not

for new earth or heaven, but to be

quiet in heart, and in eye

clear.  What we need is here.

 

~ Wendell Berry ~

 

(Collected Poems 1957-1982)

Identity, A.R. Ammons

Identity By A. R. Ammons (1926 - 2001) 1) An individual spider web identifies a species: an order of instinct prevails           through all accidents of circumstance,                     though possibility is high along the peripheries of spider                                         webs:                                         you can go all                               around the fringing attachments                               and find disorder ripe, entropy rich, high levels of random,                     numerous occasions of accident: 2) the possible settings of a web are infinite:                     how does the spider keep                               identity                     while creating the web                     in a particular place?                     how and to what extent                               and by what modes of chemistry                               and control? it is wonderful                     how things work: I will tell you                                         about it                                         because it is interesting and because whatever is moves in weeds                     and stars and spider webs and known                                         is loved:                               in that love,                               each of us knowing it,                               I love you, for it moves within and beyond us,                               sizzles in to winter grasses, darts and hangs with bumblebees by summer windowsills:                               I will show you the underlying that takes no image to itself,                     cannot be shown or said, but weaves in and out of moons and bladderweeds,                               is all and                     beyond destruction                     because created fully in no particular form:                                         if the web were perfectly pre-set,                                         the spider could                               never find                               a perfect place to set it in: and                               if the web were perfectly adaptable, if freedom and possibility were without limit,                                         the web would lose its special identity:           the row-strung garden web keeps order at the center where space is freest (intersecting that the freest                               "medium" should                               accept the firmest order) and that order                                         diminishes toward the periphery                     allowing at the points of contact                               entropy equal to entropy.

For Presence, John O'Donohue

For Presence By John O'Donohue (1956 - 2008) Awaken to the mystery of being here and enter the quiet immensity of your own presence. Have joy and peace in the temple of your senses. Receive encouragement when new frontiers beckon. Respond to the call of your gift and the courage to follow its path. Let the flame of anger free you of all falsity. May warmth of heart keep your presence aflame. May anxiety never linger about you. May your outer dignity mirror an inner dignity of soul. Take time to celebrate the quiet miracles that seek no attention. Be consoled in the secret symmetry of your soul. May you experience each day as a sacred gift woven around the heart of wonder