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 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 thepresence 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.
(by Wendell Berry, in Collected Poems)
Although the view isn't exactly the same as that of the author of the poem... although the water isn't still as I hear it rush over the dam... and I'm sitting on the terrace and watching the birds... listening to donkeys bray, water move and leaves rustle... catching glimpses of fishermen with their nets... I'm delighting in God's marvelous creation, a good book and a cup of tea... and either way, it adds up to peaceful resting...
Is there a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon?