Tuesday’s Inspiration: Wendell Berry

When I come across a poem I love, I will write it in my journal. “A Timbered Choir” by Wendell Berry is a poem I never want to forget. I think it is my all-time favorite poem if I had to chose one. Forgive my little scribbles and messy handwriting but I felt it more fun to share this way then to just type it out here. But if you really want to experience this poem, please scroll down to the link below to hear Berry read it for himself!

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Wendell Berry himself reads his beautiful poem in the video made by Laura Dunn posted in the link below. The video is the trailer for the film “Look & See: A Portrait of Wendell Berry”. The film itself is beautifully made and relaxing and an interesting portrait of the author and farmer’s life. Do have a listen to the trailer, you won’t regret it:

Look & See Trailer by Laura Dunn on Vimeo

After watching it, I am sure you understand why this poem has been echoing in my mind lately. The cadence of his voice and the powerful images in the video are captivating, important, real, and stopped me in my tracks. I’ve listened to his voice read “The Timbered Choir” over and over. I intend to read a lot more of Wendell Berry’s work.

Tuesday’s Inspiration: Mary Oliver

Picking Blueberries, Austerlitz, New York,1957
Once, in summer,
in the blueberries,
I fell asleep, and woke
when a deer stumbled against me.

I guess
she was so busy with her own happiness
she had grown careless
and was just wandering along

listening
to the wind as she leaned down
to lip up the sweetness.
So, there we were

with nothing between us
but a few leaves, and wind’s
glossy voice
shouting instructions.

The deer
backed away finally
and flung up her white tail
and went floating off toward the trees –

but the moment before she did that
was so wide and so deep
it has lasted to this day;
I have only to think of her –

the flower of her amazement
and the stalled breath of her curiosity,
and even the damp touch of her solicitude
before she took flight –

to be absent again from this world
and alive, again, in another
for thirty years
sleepy and amazed,

rising out of the rough weeds
listening and looking.
Beautiful girl,
where are you?

-Mary Oliver
New and Selected Poems
Volume One

poem : november

It’s time for hearthside,
the firelight
radiates warmth to our bones.

It’s time for bare trees,
the leaves free
swirling straight back to the earth.

It’s time for inside,
the home time
we use to declutter our minds.

It’s time for dreaming,
the cold nights
hold us so soundly asleep.

It’s time for November.
I embrace her
for bringing us back to this time.

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poem: deer

This silent space
is filled with me and
a small fly careening
around in circles.

Outside each oak leaf
dips and shakes just slightly
in a hardly
perceptible breeze.

I scared a deer this morning.
He was munching
on tall grasses
in the wide open field.

My approach was quiet.
I kept my head low
and paused
to see how close I might get.

At fifteen feet
his head jerked up.
He snorted, turned, and bounded
away; tail lifted.

He seemed shocked
by his own carelessness,
letting me be there;
so unknowingly close.

Close enough to feel underfoot
each leap he took;
white tail waving,
gone in a flash.