The Peace of Wild Things
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