Monday, February 8, 2010



And then I wander some more among the trees.
There is a thought repeating itself in my mind:
This is a great Work, this is a great Work.
It occurs to me that my head has gone
to talking religion, that it is going ahead
more or less on its own,
assenting to the Creation,
finding it good, in the spirit of the
first chapters of Genesis.
For no matter the age or the hour,
I am celebrating the morning of the
seventh day, I assent to my mind's assent.
It is a great Work.
It is a great Work - begun in the beginning,
carried on until now, to be carried on,
not by such processes as men make or
understand, but by "the kind of intelligence
that enables grass seed to grow grass;
the cherry stone to make cherries."
Wendell Berry, b. 1934
Southern Poet, Novelist, Critic, Lawyer

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