Dear sharers, next week, I’ll be submitting a good old-fashioned crop report, but this week, some poetry.
There was a time, in the early 2000s, that Wendell Berry’s writing had a huge influence on my life. I have since taken to reading other voices that have more nuanced takes on “the olden days” and what has been lost (or not lost) as the small town and the small farm have become more romanticized memories than reality in this country. But I revisit his writing from time to time. I still find comfort and the helpful reminder to carve out quiet time in nature from this short and simple poem. Though I spend most of each day working outside, I’ve been spending more time in the outdoors while NOT working, and I am better for it.
Enjoy this poem, and your week.
The Peace of Wild Things
By Wendell Berry
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.