Poem: The Meeting, Wendell Berry

In a dream I meet
my dead friend. He has,
I know gone long and far,
and yet he is the same
for the dead are changeless.
They grow no older.
It is I who have changed,
grown strange to what I was.
Yet I, the changed one,
ask: “How have you been?”
He grins and looks at me.
“I have been eating peaches
off some mighty fine trees.”

In A Part, 1980

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