The peace of wild things
This afternoon and I have done little but walk and talk
and watch the sparrows flit and flurry,
nothing more than read
by the river
wrapped in blankets and a sharp spring evensong,
watching the water wave and whorl.
I have done nothing,
nothing at all.
The peace of wild things by Wendell Berry
When despair for the world grows 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 with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
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