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.

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Also in this Issue

Issue 14 / January 22, 2015
  1. Editors’ Note
  2. Water Is Weird

    And its strange behaviors make life possible. /

  3. When Are We Going to Get There?

    If it’s space travel you’re complaining about, the answer is ‘Not in your lifetime.’ /

  4. The Mundane and the Almighty

    Finding God in speech, a bath, and a meal. /

  5. Wonder on the Web

    Links to amazing stuff

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