Ted Kooser. Photo credit: UNL Publications and Photography. This week’s poem is one of my favorites and I can’t explain why in the 15 years I’ve been writing this column I’ve neglected until now to share it with you. Wendell Berry is one of our country’s finest writers, a poet, a fiction writer, an activist and a Kentucky farmer.
This poem is from “New Collected Poems” from Counterpoint Press, 2012. Berry’s most recent book of poetry is “A Small Porch.”
Before Dark
From the porch at dusk I watched a kingfisher wild in flight he could only have made for joy.
He came down the river, splashing against the water’s dimming face like a skipped rock, passing
on down out of sight. And still I could hear the splashes farther and farther away
as it grew darker. He came back the same way, dusky as his shadow, sudden beyond the willows.
The splashes went on out of hearing. It was dark then. Somewhere the night had accommodated him
– at the place he was headed for or where, led by his delight, he came.
Ted Kooser. Photo credit: UNL Publications and Photography. This week’s poem is one of my favorites and I can’t explain why in the 15 years I’ve been writing this column I’ve neglected until now to share it with you. Wendell Berry is one of our country’s finest writers, a poet, a fiction writer, an activist and a Kentucky farmer.
This poem is from “New Collected Poems” from Counterpoint Press, 2012. Berry’s most recent book of poetry is “A Small Porch.”
Before Dark
From the porch at dusk I watched a kingfisher wild in flight he could only have made for joy.
He came down the river, splashing against the water’s dimming face like a skipped rock, passing
on down out of sight. And still I could hear the splashes farther and farther away
as it grew darker. He came back the same way, dusky as his shadow, sudden beyond the willows.
The splashes went on out of hearing. It was dark then. Somewhere the night had accommodated him
– at the place he was headed for or where, led by his delight, he came.