The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry
So much to do this week. My wall is full of it. I feel myself being pulled in many directions, and I wanted to shrink back from everything. Day by day, I said, I’ll take it day by day.
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.