The Peace of Wild Things
by Wendell Barry
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.
2 thoughts on “The Peace of Wild Things”
This is a poem that must be read often as we experience our current daily events!
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Hi Laurel! Yes, i find myself leaning in to poets (and friends) who speak of deeper truths and the nature of experience, as a kind of remembrance. You, my friend, are often in my thoughts -with fondness and love.