For The Future in  General   

Planting trees early in spring,
we make a place for birds to sing
in time to come. How do we know?
They are singing here now.
There is no other guarantee
that singing will ever be.

By Wendell Berry

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Other poems by Wendell Berry:

• 1991-I
• 1991-II
• A Meeting
• A Warning To My Readers
• Do not be ashamed
• For The Future
• In A Motel Parking Lot, Thinking Of Dr. Williams
• In this World
• Like The Water
• Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front
• Ripening
• Sabbaths 2001
• Testament
• The Country Of Marriage
• The Lilies
• The Man Born to Farming
• The peace of wild things
• The Real Work
• The Silence
• The Wish to be Generous
• Water
• What We Need Is Here
• Woods