Sunday, September 28, 2008

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

By Wendell Berry
From Collected Poems (North Point Press) © 1985