Finally will it not be enough,
after much living, after
much love, after much dying
of those you have loved,
to sit on the porch near sundown
with your eyes simply open,
watching the wind shape the clouds
into the shapes of clouds?
Even then you will remember
the history of love, shaped
in the shapes of flesh, everchanbgng
as the clouds that pass, the blessed
yearning of body for body,
unending light.
You will remember, watching
the clouds, the future of love.
–-Wendell Berry, from "A Timbered Choir"
[pic via FotoEdge, from Olanthe, Kansas]
Kit Stolz 