Stumbling on Wendell Berry’s short poem Woods*, we suddenly realized Berry has performed a feat of magic. Describing the deep heart of what it feels like to stand among trees and nature, he brings the woods right into our space, or does he transport us there?

I part the out thrusting branches
and come in beneath
the blessed and the blessing trees.
Though I am silent
there is singing around me.
Though I am dark
there is vision around me.
Though I am heavy
there is flight around me.


Berry’s poem is a teleportation device…



*From Collected Poems, 1957-1982. North Point Press, New York (1985). This poem first appeared in A Part (1980)


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