Peace of the Wild Things
by Wendell Berry
When my 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 might 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 the wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of the 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.