Poetry Friday

Some more Wendell Berry, because I'm in the mood...

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of 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 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.
I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world.
I am free.

I love this poem enough to try to live by it.
Do not tax life with forethought of grief.
Rest in the grace of the world.