The Wild Rose

Excessive wordiness has always rubbed me the wrong way. I’ve never been the sort of person who exceeds the length parameters of a writing assignment, unlike many of my students who ask questions like, “Will you take off points if I write MORE than 4-5 sentences?” I don’t know how to answer that. I usually just give a moderately annoyed look, sigh, think for a minute and say, “No…I won’t…but you should be able to answer that question in 4-5 sentences.”

I’m a believer in the beauty of brevity. Maybe that’s why I enjoy poetry; its tightness expresses miles in a matter of feet.

The Wild Rose
Wendell Berry

Sometimes hidden from me
in daily custom and in trust,
so that I live by you unaware
as by the beating of my heart.

Suddenly you flare in my sight,
a wild rose blooming at the edge
of thicket, grace and light
where yesterday was only shade,

and once again I am blessed, choosing
again what I chose before.

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2 responses to “The Wild Rose

  1. Moxie, I ADORE Wendell Berry, in addition to the simplicity of poetry. Here’s another one of his (written in 1996), which is perfect for this past (and present) Christmas season. I hope you enjoy, friend:

    “Our Christmas tree is
    Not electrified, is not
    Covered with little lights
    Calling attention to themselves
    (we have had enough
    of little lights calling attention
    to themselves). Our tree is a cedar cut here, one
    of the fragrances of our place,
    hung with painted cones
    and paper stars folded
    long ago to praise our tree,
    Christ come into the world.”

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