From This Day: Collected & New Sabbath Poems
by Wendell Berry
The flocking blackbirds fly across
the river, appearing above the trees
on one side, disappearing beyond
the trees on the other side. The flock
undulates in passage beneath the opening
of white sky that seems no wider
than the river. It is mid August.
The year is changing. The summer’s young
are grown and strong in flight. Soon now
it will be fall. The frost will come.
To one who has watched here many years,
all of this is familiar. And yet
none of it has ever happened
before as it is happening now.
You can find this poem in This Day: Collected & New Sabbath Poems.