The Wild Rose
sometimes hidden from me
in daily custom and 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.
-wendell berry
(i expect to be writing with my heart strings in the coming weeks. prepare yourself, reader).
1 year ago • 0 notes