black windows

SFO. 2010.

On my way to a wedding in New Hampshire. Laying tangled in benches of seats, head tilted back, upsidedown photo of this bank of windows, black and white and sterile all over.

Here's a poem I found in an old journal of mine, copied into it on January 13, 2003. Written by Wendell Berry.


Grace

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound,
in fear of what my life, and what my children's life may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water,
and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives
with forethought of greif.

I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light.
For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.


I love you, Dana.