Monday, October 26, 2015

The Peace Of Wild Things...


Beyond the windows of my study the brilliant green of summer is slowly giving way to yellow and orange and faded colors. Leaves, heavy with raindrops and hassled by brisk winds, fall to the surface of the pond. In the heavens above there is not a trace of blue sky.

For reasons I don't fully understand, just as a low-pressure weather front has enveloped The Shire, so too, a heaviness presses down on my spirit. During such times, I lean heavily on prayer and sit quietly listening for the encouragement of God's quiet voice.  I expect the Comforter to speak comfort through His word, through poetry, through music, and through my senses. It's not a demand. It's an expectation.

I found this poem by Wendell Berry. Maybe this poem found me...

The Peace of Wild Things

When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of 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, Collected Poems

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