{whatever is foreseen in joy}

Whatever is foreseen in joy

Must be lived out from day to day.

Vision help open in the dark

By our ten thousand days of work.

Harvest will fill the barn; for that

The hand must ache, the face must sweat.

And yet no leaf or grain is filled

By work of ours; the field is tilled

And left to grace. That we may reap,

Great work is done while we're asleep.

When we work well, a Sabbath mood

Rests on our day, and finds it good.

I can't remember where I first read this Wendell Berry poem- either someone blogged it or it showed up on facebook. Either way, I copied it down and saved it. 

Happy Saturday.