Friday, January 1, 2016

January Poetry

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, 1968


Rambling Woods said...

I read this over and over again..

Sallie (FullTime-Life) said...

This is so wonderful. I am going to print it and post it somewhere in my house.