A portion of A design of a House, by Wendell Berry

A portion of A design of a house, by Wendell Berry

We’ve come round again to short days and long nights;

Time goes; the clocks barely keep up.

A spare dream of summer is kept alive in the house;

The Queen Anne’s lace is gobleted,

green beginning to bloom,

tufted, unfurling-unfolding whiteness;

More clear than in the summer, because the single bloom is random.

In the summer’s abundance of its kind, in high relief

Above the clover and grass

Of the field, unstill an instant

The day having come upon it,

green and white,

in as much light as ever was.

Opened, white, at the solstice of its becoming,

then the flower forgets its growing;

and is still.