The Peace of Wild Things
Resting in the grace of the world. /
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
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
Wendell Berry is a farmer, novelist, poet, and cultural critic. This poem is reprinted from The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry (Counterpoint, 1999) with permission.
Also in this Issue
Issue 14 / January 22, 2015- Editors’ Note
- Water Is Weird
And its strange behaviors make life possible. /
- When Are We Going to Get There?
If it’s space travel you’re complaining about, the answer is ‘Not in your lifetime.’ /
- The Mundane and the Almighty
Finding God in speech, a bath, and a meal. /
- Wonder on the Web
Links to amazing stuff