Suppose we did our work
like the snow, quietly, quietly,
leaving nothing out.
From Leavings: Poems, by Wendell Berry
February 22, 2012
...dispatches from the post-evangelical wilderness
From Leavings: Poems, by Wendell Berry
A Wilderness Prayer
Arise, Lord: Why are you sleeping?
Arise: Do not make our exile final.
How can you turn your face from us?
How can you forget all our troubles?
We are pressed down to the earth itself.
Arise, Lord.
Help us.
Set us free.
• Monastic Liturgy
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License.
Powered by WordPress™
Site banners: Michael Buckley
Site design: P12 Media
Copyright © 2012 • All Rights Reserved • Log in
Kind of like a grain of wheat, falling to the ground.
The poem reminds me of the Carthusian’s in France, quietly tucked away doing their work.
Today’s snow first was small bouncy pellets that stuck especially to the sidewalk and drive. Now they are bigger dry flakes blowing sideways in th howling wind, forming drifts.
There are as many different kinds of snows as there are ways to work. Some more romantic than others!
Ms. Scott’s photo is lovely. Nice choice.
Tom
Wow, what a beautiful post.