And why is that? I think it’s because
we both knew the talk of old people,
old country people, in summer evenings.
Having worked hard all their lives long
and all the long day, they came out
on the gallery down in your country,
out on the porch or doorstep in mine,
where they would sit at ease in the cool
of evening, and they would talk quietly
of what they had known, of what
they knew. In their rest and quiet talk
there was peace that was almost heavenly,
peace never to be forgotten, never
again quite to be imagined, but peace
above all else that we have longed for.
***
Images: 22 September 2012, back cow pasture
Verse: excerpt from “A Letter (to Ernest J. Gaines)” by Wendell Berry
Filed under: Images and Verse Tagged: poetry, small town living
