The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry

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.

Oliver

under the flaming banyan tree
     her nightmares seek enlightenment

dear heron of great blue light
     show this crying goddess home

let her run with morning moons
     and nap in trumpeting sunlight 

guide her to your kingdom of shallow water
     and stand with her there, still, in the peace

of a gentle breeze and rippling haiku 

3.31.13

at peace
near reeds
coots ripple
still water