What We Need Is Here
Horseback on Sunday morning,
harvest over, we taste persimmon
and wild grape, sharp sweet
of summer's end. In time's maze
over fall fields, we name names
that rest on graves. We open
a persimmon seed to find the tree
that stands in promise,
pale, in the seed's marrow.
Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here.
The poem "Wild Geese", From Selected Poems of Wendell Berry.
Seed questions for reflection: How do you relate to the wisdom of "what we need is here?" Can you share a story of a time you came in touch with your truest reality through what was in front of you? How do you develop the eyes to see the deepest reality in front of you?
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