I will wait here in the fields
to see how well the rain
brings on the grass.
In the labor of the fields
longer than a man’s life
I am at home. Don’t come with me.
You stay home too.
I will be standing in the woods
where the old trees
move only with the wind
and then with gravity.
In the stillness of the trees
I am at home. Don’t come with me.
You stay home too.
–Wendell Berry
Severe even before it became surreal, the heft of this semester bent me fore and aft. All I asked for was a day and now the days stretch in front of me, the labor of my field on hiatus.
Polking Classroom 