Wendell Berry

A Meeting

by 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 you been?"
He grins and looks at me.

"I been eating peaches
off some mighty fine trees."