Everywhere I looked, the prospect was new and interesting. Nowhere I had lived before had been so intimate with the world. A pair of phoebes were nesting under the eaves above the porch. Owls called at night, sometimes right over the roof. I would hear a fish jump and look up to see the circles widening on the water. Sometimes, just sitting and looking, I would see the fish when it jumped. Birds were nesting and singing all around—all kinds of birds, and I began to learn their names. Every tree seemed to be offering itself to the use of the birds. And there was the river itself, flowing or still, muddy or clear, quiet or windblown, steaming on the colder mornings of winter or frozen over, always changing its mood, never feeling exactly the same way twice. - Wendell Berry, Jayber Crow
Love this!!
Hopkins is a favorite.
In Honor of Gerard Manley Hopkins
What kin, relation can, compare the poet’s craft
to current verse composed, lacking constraint or rhyme?
Stretched, sprung, beats that bounce owe, creator-debt to time
unhindered Hopkins, like - to pop studios hallelujahs waft.
.
To walk along, along, to notice little things
to find the stress ínherent, ín words, ín landscapes ín
why - woods, wings, wonder, why-whén-spléndor that the Whip-poor-will thén
sings?
.
And then express, press, stress, the potential of words
if need be make your own, find the sound, pound, forge anew
énlárge whát wórds cán dó
with word extensions new, word-stew, word-glue, words-to-words.
.
Always the impression, No! ínspiration fire
burning unquenchable, reason for being made
to reveal the glory of God hidden as ciphers by holy design laid
in éverything created. Displayed ah! proclaimed with heaven-choir.
Everywhere I looked, the prospect was new and interesting. Nowhere I had lived before had been so intimate with the world. A pair of phoebes were nesting under the eaves above the porch. Owls called at night, sometimes right over the roof. I would hear a fish jump and look up to see the circles widening on the water. Sometimes, just sitting and looking, I would see the fish when it jumped. Birds were nesting and singing all around—all kinds of birds, and I began to learn their names. Every tree seemed to be offering itself to the use of the birds. And there was the river itself, flowing or still, muddy or clear, quiet or windblown, steaming on the colder mornings of winter or frozen over, always changing its mood, never feeling exactly the same way twice. - Wendell Berry, Jayber Crow
This is one of my most favorite books. Thank you for this.