Scott Hensley and his wife, Erica, own and operate a small farm near downtown Indianapolis. The themes of land, restoration, and the spiritual life are the main threads that inspire these thoughts and words.
We retreat, gradually, into the happy decline of the year.
Our thoughts and desires shift
From the hope of good harvest
To grasses and legumes,
Sown to grow and die,
And to rest,
Our own and the land's -
The high calling to which our work
Must surrender, serving the blessed
Order, set in place
To be followed and loved.
We leave the good for the best.
The world is inundated with songs,
Many of them, in this day,
Sung to none but the singer.
Hollow songs, simply meant
To fill the air
And settle nowhere -
Let them dissolve as they
Were destined to do.
Be quiet, instead, and do not sing,
But let words, if they come,
Emerge from the wordless,
And let them return to the same.
And you, little poem,
Settle down, and nourish the ground.
The birds seem to be the ones with the most choices.
Nuthatch, chickadee, downy,
Wren, sparrow, mockingbird and cardinal -
To name a few, could move on quickly from here
To a place more free and more clear.
But they, for their own reasons, have chosen this place
Of all places to choose, as if to grace
Our fallen city with the light of another world,
Their movement and song a blessing,
Of peace, to give the city a covering.
At dawn, even here, a joyous chorus unfurls.