‘The question before me, now…’

This – another little gem by Wendell Berry – seems like a good poem for my 58th new year’s day.

The question before me, now that I
am old, is not how to be dead,
which I know from enough practice,
but how to be alive, as these worn
hills still tell, and some paintings
by Paul Cézanne, and this mere
singing wren, who thinks he’s alive
forever, this instant, and may be.

– Wendell Berry, This Day: Collected and New Sabbath Poems2001 (VI)

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s