Poetry...

Like The Water

Like the water of a deep stream,

love is always too much.

Though we drink till we burst,

In its abundance it survives our thirst.

In the evening we come down to the shore to drink our fill,

and sleep,while it flows through the regions of the dark.

it does not hold us,

except we keep returning to its rich waters thirsty.

We enter,

willing to die,

into the commonwealth of its joy.

by Wendell Berry

On The Breakwater

On the breakwater in the summer dark,

a man and a girl are sitting

She across his knee and they are looking face into face

Talking to each other without words,

singing rythms in silence to each other.

A funnel of white ranges the blue dusk from an out-going boat,

Playing its search light,

puzzled,

abrupt,

over a streak of green,

And two on the breakwater keep their silence,

she on his knee.

by Wendell Berry