Tag Archives: Wendell Berry

They Sit Together on the Porch

By Chip Cain | Published April 20, 2009

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 [...]

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. . . caught in the eye. It stays

By Chip Cain | Published April 16, 2008

The Sycamore Gathers The sycamore gathers out of the sky, white in the glance that looks up to it through the black crisscross of the window. But it is not a glance that it offers itself to. It is no lightning stroke caught in the eye. It stays, an old holding in place. And its [...]

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