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 Meeting In A Part||1/3/2003|
|12.||The Country Of Marriage||1/3/2003|
|13.||A Timbered Choir||1/3/2003|
|14.||A Warning To My Readers||1/3/2003|
|15.||The Hidden Singer||1/3/2003|
|16.||What We Need Is Here||1/13/2003|
|17.||Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front||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.
And now to the Abyss I pass
Of that Unfathomable Grass...
Dear relatives and friends, when my last breath
Grows large and free in air, don't call it death --
A word to enrich the undertaker and inspire
His surly art of imitating life; conspire
Against him. Say that my body cannot now