| The Wild Things When dispair grows in me and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound In fear of what my life and my childrens lives may be I go and lie down by where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water and the great heron feeds I come into the peace of the wild things Who do not tax their lives with fore thought of grief I come into the presence of still water and feel above me the day-blind stars waiting for their light For a time I rest in the grace of the world and am free ~Wendyll Berry~ |