Even while I dreamed I prayed that what I saw was only fear and no foretelling,
for I saw the last known landscape destroyed for the sake
of the objective, the soil bludgeoned, the rock blasted.
Those who had wanted to go home would never get there now.
...
Read full text
Profound and very vividly written, this dream and its repercussions are eloquently portrayed and the lines convey strong and gripping emotions. Very striking and a drastic reminder for us all.
Although A Timbered Choir is not realy poetic, its prosey message is a clear call to the travel worn commuter and glutted conscience of the over-consumer. The verses do not sing like a Robert Frost piece, or reverberate with resonance in the same way that Henry Beston beckons you out of doors to enjoy the simple old farmyard. All the same, it is the devout love for the land that is discerned in Wendell Berry's masterful lesson. I will continue to tap this source of sustained dependence on what gives true meaning in life.
I especially liked the line, “ I came to the city that nobody recognised ........every other city“