Vacation: A Wendell Berry Poem

We are, at present, in the midst of a transitional season and a vacation, so I haven’t had the time to post new content. Instead, since I’ve been on a Wendell Berry kick, I thought I would share a short excerpt from his poem “Boone.”

Death is a conjecture of the seed / and the seasons bear it out; / the wild plum achieves its bloom, / perfects the yellow center of each flower, / submits to violence— / extravagance too grievous for praise; / there are no culminations, no / requitals.

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