When despair grows in me…

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 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

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Poetry

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