The Peace of Wild Things by Wendall Barry

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.
                                                                                  
                                                                                    — Wendell Berry