Wednesday, March 6, 2024

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.





Poem by Wendell Berry

from The Peace of Wild Things 

And Other Poems 

Why have standards fallen so low? Where is the sense of honor and duty? There is no win or salvation in the shame of dishonor and indecency....