The Peace of the 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.

— Wendell Berry