The Peace of Wild Things

Just got back from Assateague. It was, as always, lovely.Even when the weather is raging, it's beautiful. It was misty when I got there on Wednesday evening, but off in the distance, there was a pony in the marsh, grazing, and it was a soft welcome. When I left yesterday morning, teary-eyed because I hate to go, hate the drive home, desire--again--to move down there, there were large flashes of white, too large to be egrets, but rather, ponies.

I first read it a year or so ago, and it very much explains my love for this place. I thought some of you might enjoy it. And I urge you, this summer, if you need it, find your own place to experience this peace.

 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