Wendell Berry: They Sit Together On the Porch

Thank you to my dear circle sister Bess Piñón who shared this touching poem by Wendell Berry in our women's circle last night. And as Bess reflected, this poem does not only reflect the death of a spouse and partner, but could also be that of other beloveds — a parent, a sibling, a dear friend, or anyone whose heart we are deeply connected with. This poem also brings tears to me in how it illuminates the preciousness of life and of our brief time here together with those we love and cherish. Death sits over our shoulders and awaits us all. May we remember this and to cherish the preciousness of those who we hold so dear. 🙏💗 Molly

They Sit Together On the Porch

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 smokes his pipe. They do not speak,

And when they speak at last it is to say

What each one knows the other knows. They have

One mind between them, now, that finally

For all its knowing will not exactly know

Which one goes first through the dark doorway, bidding

Goodnight, and which sits on a while alone.

— Wendell Berry

From A Timbered Choir