Today as he was walking away from the house and toward the deep woods, the buck reached up a grabbed a few of the tender tip-leaves as he passed. I think the plant is a speckled alder, but will go out and check tomorrow. I was reminded of the Wendell Berry poem below.
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.
from Collected Poems 1957-1982 (Counterpoint Press, 1985).