Wendell Berry Poems
|4.||The Real Work||5/13/2015|
|6.||Like The Water||11/22/2014|
|8.||In A Motel Parking Lot, Thinking Of Dr. Williams||1/3/2003|
|10.||The Mad Farmer Revolution||1/3/2003|
|11.||A Warning To My Readers||1/3/2003|
|12.||A Meeting In A Part||1/3/2003|
|13.||The Hidden Singer||1/3/2003|
|14.||A Timbered Choir||1/3/2003|
|15.||Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front||1/3/2003|
|16.||What We Need Is Here||1/13/2003|
|17.||The Country Of Marriage||1/3/2003|
|18.||The Peace Of Wild Things||1/3/2003|
The Peace Of Wild Things
When despair 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 for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
A Meeting In A Part
In a dream I meet
my dead friend. He has,
I know, gone long and far,
and yet he is the same
for the dead are changeless.
They grow no older.
It is I who have changed,
grown strange to what I was.
Yet I, the changed one,