The Peace of Wild Things

THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS

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.

— Wendell Berry

Waterfall

You can’t trust water: Even a straight stick turns crooked in it.

– W C Fields

As piercing showers hit your pretty

face, replacing pretentious smile with

crooked obscenities, the ensconcing

veil was lifted and naked truth glintzed,

across the surface of tiny rivulets

flowing down your slender neck.