A Poem by Wendell Berry
Slowly, Slowly, they return
To the small woodland let alone:
Great trees, out spreading and upright,
Apostles of the living light.
Patient as stars, they build in air
Tier after tier a timbered choir,
Stout beams upholding weightless grace
Of song, a blessing on this place
They stand in waiting all around,
Uprisings of their native ground,
Down-comings of the distant light
They are the advent they await.
Receiving sun and giving shade,
Their life’s a benefaction made,
And is a benediction said
Over the living and the dead.
In fall their brightened leaves, released,
Fly down the wind and we are pleased
To walk on radiance, amazed
Oh light come down to earth, be praised!