Wendell Berry, Sabbath Poems, 1982.
VII
The clearing rests in song and shade.
It is a creature made
By old light held in soil and leaf,
By human joy and grief,
By human work,
Fidelity of sight and stroke,
By rain; by water on
The parent stone.
We join our work to Heaven’s gift,
Our hope to what is left,
That field and woods at last agree
In an economy
Of widest worth.
High Heaven’s Kingdom come on earth.
Imagine Paradise.
O dust, arise!
That phrase, “old light held in soil and leaf” strikes something in me, something about the aging, curing process of the light (and Light) seeping, sinking into us, held and fermented, building, strengthening, and preparing for the Spring, when new life will burst forth.
But
How can light be old?
How can light be held?
It is transformed, not just heat and sight, but something new, growth, strength.
It is transformed.
It transforms.
