The Peace of the 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.
Behind our shul is a swath of foresty growth that splits between our small town and the next. It goes on for a mile or two along the town and looks like it's brimming with magic. I would love to live up against that foresty hill.
Before I had children, I would go in hunt of lovely places in nature where I could be free and at peace just like in this poem. I suppose the whole watching your kids diligently thing sort of kills the mood! But I really hope that someday I can find the peace and patience to breathe that way again.