The peace of wild things

 When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of 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 for their light.
 For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

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