THE PEACE OF FEATHERED THINGS
(in the way of Wendell Berry)
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my future and what the world’s future may be,
I go and hang out where the rooster
crows in all his beauty in the grass, and the hens peck around in the dirt.
I come into the peace of feathered things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of freshly-laid eggs.
And I feel above me the dusty cobwebs
clinging to the familiar ways. While I clean the coop,
I rest in the grace of the flock, and I am free.
~ inspired by a popular poem by Wendell Berry, The Peace of Wild Things, published in his first collection of poetry in 1968 then reprinted in a collection in 1985.