POEMS: “The Peace Of Wild Things” by Wendell Berry

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The Peace Of Wild Things

When despair 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 for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
 
 
by Wendell Berry
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One Comment Add yours

  1. LindaP says:

    Loved this poem! Thanks!

    Like

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