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 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.
— Wendell Berry
One of my very favorite poems.
I save a copy on my overcrowded fridge front at home where despair for my own private world and that of my children’s' often finds me wide eyed and terrified in the middle of the night.
I force myself to come into the presence of still water, and the peace of the wild things.
What a lullaby.