Poem: They Sit Together on the Porch

They Sit Togeth­er on the Porch
by Wen­dell Berry
From A Tim­bered Choir

They sit togeth­er on the porch, the dark
Almost fall­en, the house behind them dark.
Their sup­per done with, they have washed and dried
The dishes–only two plates now, two glasses,
Two knives, two forks, two spoons–small work for two.
She sits with her hands fold­ed in her lap,
At rest. He smokes his pipe. They do not speak,
And when they speak at last it is to say
What each one knows the oth­er knows. They have
One mind between them, now, that finally
For all its know­ing will not exact­ly know
Which one goes first through the dark door­way, bidding
Good­night, and which sits on a while alone.