A strong, slow hatha flow building up to wild thing.
The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry
When dispair for the world grow in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound of what my life of 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.