How is your August going?

Here's the third poem offering of the month, The Peace of Wild Things.

A friend sent me this poem years ago.

She sent it to me by email on no special day, for no particular reason, which I loved as much as the poem itself.

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 the time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Let's practise.