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06 April 2008

Poets tell us what we knew about ourselves but didn't know we knew or rejected as too true. They also, graciously, allow for renewal.

Pear_tree A Purification

At the start of spring I open a trench
in the ground. I put into it
the winter's accumulation of paper,
pages I do not want to read
again, useless words, fragments,
errors.  And I put into it
the contents of the outhouse:
light of the sun, growth of the ground,
finished with one of their journeys.
To the sky, to the wind, then,
and to the faithful trees, I confess
my sins: that I have not been happy

enough, considering my good luck;
have listened to too much noise:
have been inattentive to wonders;
have lusted after praise.

And then upon the gathered refuse
of mind and body, I close the trench,
folding shut again the dark,
and deathless earth. Beneath that seal
the old escapes into the new.

-Wendell Berry

[photo of the beautiful Bradford pear in my front yard, my sign of renewal every spring]

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Dear Patti,
What a beautiful tree! Your picture made me smile! Here the trees are blooming too and it just makes me feel so happy. I wanted to share with you another spring poem, I hope you like it. It is by one of my favorite poets in the world, Macrina Wiederkehr. Do you know her?
--

How quietly the earth breathes forth new life. How eagerly the sun bleeds forth the spring,
I am listening.
I am listening to seeds breaking open,
to roots growing strong beneath the ground,
to green shoots rising up from winter wombs. I am listening to thorns blossoming,
to barren branches laughing out new growth,
to wildflowers dancing through the meadows.

I am listening.
I am listening to the forest filling up with song.
I am listening to the earth filling up with life.
I am listening to trees filling up with leaves.

I am listening.
I am listening to the sky with its many changing moods,
to flashes of lightning, peals of thunder,
to opening buds and greening grass.
I am listening to the breaking forth of light in the vestibule of dawn.
I am listening to the freshness of the morning.

I am listening.
I am listening to the rain drops
giving hope to thirsty gardens.
I am listening to the orchards
pregnant with new life.
I am listening to the flowers
bursting forth in rainbow colors.

I am listening.
I am listening to the brook,
to the song of happy waters.
I am listening to music
rising up from all of the earth.
I am listening to spring
soaring in on wings of life.
I am listening to the sounds of spring.

I am listening.
I am listening to prayers
pouring fourth from feathered throats.
I am listening to prayers
rising up from misty waters.
I am listening to prayers
of a meadow crowned with dawn.

I am listening.
I am listening to the growing
in the garden of my heart.
I am listening to my heart
singing songs of resurrection.
I am listening to the colors of life.

I am listening.
I am listening to winter
handing over spring.
I am listening to the poetry of spring.
I am listening.

wow, i just keep finding such wonderful stuff, for lack of better words. everbody says inspiration, which it is... but so much more... thanks patti... amy ramblin rose

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