Wendell Berry Poems
|2.||The Wish to be Generous||7/28/2016|
|5.||The Real Work||5/13/2015|
|7.||Like The Water||11/22/2014|
|9.||In A Motel Parking Lot, Thinking Of Dr. Williams||1/3/2003|
|11.||The Mad Farmer Revolution||1/3/2003|
|12.||The Hidden Singer||1/3/2003|
|13.||A Meeting In A Part||1/3/2003|
|14.||A Warning To My Readers||1/3/2003|
|15.||Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front||1/3/2003|
|16.||What We Need Is Here||1/13/2003|
|17.||A Timbered Choir||1/3/2003|
|18.||The Country Of Marriage||1/3/2003|
|19.||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.
The Hidden Singer
The gods are less for their love of praise.
Above and below them all is a spirit that needs nothing
but its own wholeness, its health and ours.
It has made all things by dividing itself.
It will be whole again.
To its joy we come together --
the seer and the seen, the eater and the eaten,
the lover and the loved.
In our joining it knows itself. It is with us then,