On a Wednesday washed out of color, this mid-January has the taste of February, wet, the wind wicking up wildly then dropping down again to the sodden snow. January is the season of work, of leaning in hard to a task at hand, for pleasure, for wage, for cleanliness, for the way work sweeps us out, makes something new. In its own way, winter’s short, pinwheeling along to spring, to the radiance of summer.

Here’s a perfect poem for today.

To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.

To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,

and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,

and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.

— Wendell Berry

5 thoughts on “Midwinter.

  1. Perfect poem, perfect prose – such clarity!

    We drove over to the Galaxy yesterday and the landscape was obscured by the fog, and everything on the ground was a dripping, soggy mess. Not our typical January, for sure.

      • It was so heartwarming to see the renovated store! I found a treasure, and splurged on it (something I never, ever used to be able to afford to do): Maira Kalman’s newest book Women Holding Things. I savored every word, from the first words on the dust jacket flap…
        I think you would love this book.

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