Words of Wendell

Read and enjoy :)


The Thought of Something Else

1.
A spring wind blowing
the smell of the ground
through the intersections of traffic,
the mind turns, seeks a new
nativity--another place,
simpler, less weighted
by what has already been.

Another place!
it's enough to grieve me--
that old dream of going,
of becoming a better man
just by getting up and going
to a better place.

2.
The mystery. The old
unaccountable unfolding.
The iron trees in the park
suddenly remember forests.
It becomes possible to think of going.

3.
--a place where thought
can take its shape
as quietly in the mind
as water in a pitcher,
or a man can be
safely without thought
--see the day begin
and lean back,
a simple wakefulness filling
perfectly
the spaces among the leaves.

--Wendell Berry

I'm frustrated by poetry much of the time. Often the writers seem to be skillfully crafting an elegant riddle. Sometimes I want to scream, "Say what you mean and cut all the lyrical hogwash!" But, for the most part, I usually understand Mr. Berry.

I want to be a writer, but not just any writer--a good writer. But that takes lots of practice, and I'm lazy.