I
go among trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet
around
me like circles on water.
My tasks lie in their places
where I
left them, asleep like cattle.
Then what is afraid of me comes
and
lives a while in my sight.
What it fears in me leaves me,
and
the fear of me leaves it.
It sings, and I hear its song.
Then
what I am afraid of comes.
I live for a while in its sight.
What
I fear in it leaves it,
and the fear of it leaves me.
It sings,
and I hear its song.
After days of labor,
mute in my
consternations,
I hear my song at last,
and I sing it. As we
sing,
the day turns, the trees move.
—
Wendell Berry in A Timbered Choir
Tuesday, December 13, 2022
A Timbered Choir
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