The road less Crowder
Spring tangles shadow and light,
Branches of trees
Knit vision and wind.
The shape of the wind is a tree
Bending, spilling it’s birds.
From the cloud to the stone
The rain stands tall,
Columned into his darkness.
The church hill heals our father in.
Our remembering moves from a different place.
Eulogy
Wendell Berry
Hoyle F Crowder Sr
1947
July 10, 2018
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