From Wendell Berry, A Small Porch (XI)
To that light, itself invisible
were it not for the world
that is lighted by it, comes spring,
the circumstance of leaves,
the leaflight changing as the leaves
move, a motional language
of the invisible air, in which
also the colors of the flowers
declare the flowers amid
the crowding of green leaves.
To see that these are wonders
he has only to wonder.
By loving them he sees
in them the signature
of the shaping love inwardly
moving them to bloom, as the air
moves them inwardly.
