Who, Me?…Poetry?

I didn’t grow up with any appreciation of poetry. So it is somewhat surprising to me that later in life I have begun to read a few poets. Christina Rosetti, John  Donne, G. M. Hopkins, Gerhard Tersteegen, and Wendell Berry to name a few.

Wendell Berry is one that makes me slow down and breathe easier. It’s not because he only says comforting things, but rather because he brings a quality of sabbath to bear in his writings.  It doesn’t take a literary genius to figure that out though. His volume, A Timbered Choir, is tagged on the cover, “The Sabbath Poems 1979-1997”.

This is one, from The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry, I really resonate with.

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


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