Peace
I imagine some here are familiar with the poetry, essays, and books of the author and farmer, Wendell Berry, of Kentucky. He is a favorite author of mine, and it was a privilege to meet him once about twenty years ago. This is his poem.
THE PEACE of WILD THINGS
Author, Wendell Berry
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.
Peace
I imagine some here are familiar with the poetry, essays, and books of the author and farmer, Wendell Berry, of Kentucky. He is a favorite author of mine, and it was a privilege to meet him once about twenty years ago. This is his poem.
THE PEACE of WILD THINGS
Author, Wendell Berry
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.