It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.
Copyright ©1983 by Wendell Berry, from Standing by Words. Reprinted by permission of Counterpoint.
She rarely made us do it— we’d clear the table instead—so my sister and I…
Because one must be naked to get clean, my dad shrugs out of his pajama…
Come to my funeral dressed as you would for an autumn walk in the woods….
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