I knew one who made his pilgrimage to springs

The Springs by Wendell Berry In a country without saints or shrines I knew one who made his pilgrimage to springs, where in his life’s dry years his mind held on. Everlasting, people called them, and gave them names. The water broke into sounds and shinings at the vein mouth, bearing the taste of theContinue reading “I knew one who made his pilgrimage to springs”

we send our children into the wilderness

That is how life goes—we send our children into the wilderness. Some of them on the day they are born, it seems, for all the help we can give them. Some of them seem to be a kind of wilderness unto themselves. But there must be angels there, too, and springs of water. Even thatContinue reading “we send our children into the wilderness”