We have a shelf of poetry books in the Page library. They are not my husband’s.
Wendell Berry has been a companion of my heart for a long, long time. Here’s one of my favorites. I believe I have built for myself an internal farm, composed of love and knitting.
A STANDING GROUND
However just and anxious I have been,
I will stop and step back
from the crowd of those who may agree
with what I say, and be apart.
There is no earthly promise of life or peace
but where the roots branch and weave
their patient silent passages in the dark;
uprooted, I have been furious without an aim.
I am not bound for any public place,
but for ground of my own
where I have planted vines and orchard trees,
and in the heat of the day climbed up
into the healing shadow of the woods.
Better than any argument is to rise at dawn
And pick dew-wet red berries in a cup.