sixty two

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grown in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children's lives 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 in their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

by Wendell Berry