Peace of the Wild Things
by Wendell Berry
When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of 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 for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
