Sabbath Poem VII 2009

For the apparent disorder

of the broken woods there are 

reasons enough, although

we do not know them all 

or their pattern, but by reasons

is disorder ordered, and so 

we trust and live and love

this place whose belongings we are. 

The woodland has no creed

except for the presumptive fact 

that the pattern of its breaking 

involves also, given tie,

the pattern of its healing. 

                              -Wendell Berry

Sabbath Poem V 2001

The wind of the fall is here.

It is everywhere. It moves

Every leaf of every

Tree. It is the only motion

of the river.  Green leaves

Grow weary of their color.

Now evening too is in the air.

The bright hawks of the day subside.

The owls waken.

Small creatures die because

Larger creatures are hungry.

How superior to this

human confusion of greed

and creed, blood and fire. 

                                   -Wendell Berry

Primrose

Upon a bank I sat, a child made seer
Of one small primrose flowering in my mind.
Better than wealth it is, I said, to find
One small page of Truth's manuscript made clear.
I looked at Christ transfigured without fear--
The light was very beautiful and kind,
And where the Holy Ghost in flame had signed
I read it through the lenses of a tear.
And then my sight grew dim, I could not see
The primrose that had lighted me to Heaven,
And there was but the shadow of a tree
Ghostly among the stars. The years that pass
Like tired soldiers nevermore have given
Moments to see wonders in the grass.

                                -Patrick Kavanagh