Skip to main content

Poetry Sunday: They Sit Together on the Porch


It is November. The year is winding down. Time to think about...time. About the passage of time. And about growing old together. No one does that better than Wendell Berry.

They Sit Together on the Porch

BY WENDELL BERRY
They sit together on the porch, the dark
Almost fallen, the house behind them dark.
Their supper done with, they have washed and dried
The dishes–only two plates now, two glasses,
Two knives, two forks, two spoons–small work for two.
She sits with her hands folded in her lap,
At rest. He smokes his pipe. They do not speak,
And when they speak at last it is to say
What each one knows the other knows. They have
One mind between them, now, that finally
For all its knowing will not exactly know
Which one goes first through the dark doorway, bidding
Goodnight, and which sits on a while alone.
Labels:

Comments

  1. Pam's English GardenNovember 3, 2014 at 6:00 AM

    It seems I end every conversation -- on blogs and talking with friends -- with the comment, "Where did the time go?" The poem could be me and my love with 'one mind between us.' I'm of that age, though he is younger. Just glad I'm not sitting on the porch alone. P. x

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dorothy BordersNovember 3, 2014 at 8:44 AM

      So am I, Pam.

      Delete
    2. AndrewMay 6, 2024 at 1:18 PM

      Amen Pam! preach it girl

      Delete
    3. Brody vanderZwaagMay 6, 2024 at 1:19 PM

      Yass Sister!!! Luv you!!!

      Delete
    4. Brody vanderZwaagMay 6, 2024 at 1:23 PM

      I really love this poem, in fact it really reminds me on the poem "Lamentation for the snail I accidentally stepped upon" It is so heart warming, and I love this. I appreciate the Poem Sunday Idea, and altho I am 16 I will follow this every week until I am 90.

      Delete
    5. AnonymousMay 6, 2024 at 1:24 PM

      Wow Pam! So insightful:) I've always liked this poem but your words of wisdom really made me love it more. Recently my daughter lost her first beauty pagent and its really taken a toll on our family. As sad as I am for my baby girl, I think it's time for our family to move on. Plus my son has his pagent coming up too! I will make sure to share these helpful thoughts about this poem with my family. Thank you for saving my family!!!!

      Delete
  2. AndrewMay 6, 2024 at 1:22 PM

    The only thing that frustrates me about this post is the fact that the caption under the title contains a sentence starting with conjunction. This is not grammatical correct according to my English 2 class.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. AnonymousMay 6, 2024 at 1:26 PM

      Oh my golly goshers! I didn't even notice this LOL

      Delete
  3. AndrewMay 6, 2024 at 1:23 PM

    This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...
19 comments
Read more

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...
24 comments
Read more

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters!  Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...
6 comments
Read more