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.
annalee:
I came across this poem last year, there is a kind of hidden garden in my city and someone has written it on a slate by the river. It's such a perfect poem, I was very happy when I found it. Nice to find your journal of thoughtfulness here, among all the rubble.
eugene2:
Such a beautiful way to stumble across a Berry! Poems (people, life lessons) find their way into your life when they should. Even within the rubble. Be good :-)~.