Thursday Night Poetry Blogging


The Hidden Singer

~ Wendell Berry

The gods are less

for their love of praise.

Above and below them all

is a spirit that needs

nothing but its own


its health and ours.

It has made all things

by dividing itself.

It will be whole again.

To its joy we come

together – the seer

and the seen, the eater

and the eaten, the lover

and the loved.

In our joining it knows

itself. It is with us then,

not as the gods

whose names crest

in unearthly fire,

but as a little bird

hidden in the leaves

who sings quietly

and waits

and sings.

Picture found here.

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