Wednesday, January 19, 2011

the most perfect last two lines e'er written in a poem

Her First Calf
by Wendell Berry

Her fate seizes her and brings her
down. She is heavy with it. It
wrings her. The great weight
is heaved out of her. It eases.
She moves into what she has become,
ure in her fate now
as a fish free in the current.
She turns to the calf who has broken
out of the womb's water and its veil.
He breathes. She licks his wet hair.
He gathers his legs under him
and rises. He stands, and his legs
wobble. After the months
of his pursuit of her, now
they meet face to face.
From the beginnings of the world
his arrival and her welcome
have been prepared. They have always
known each other.

1 comment:

Marie said...

What a beautiful poem Ally! I love it. I got your lovely Christmas letter and want to send a reply. I enjoyed every word. What an eventful and surprising, and blessed year you have had! xxoo