This poem keeps appearing in my life. So beautiful:
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
I've seen the herons perching on rocks in the wide brown French Broad River, waiting for a fish dinner. I feel blessed to live in such a beautiful place.
This photo is a busy bee with heavy laden orange pollen sacks on her hips, drinking nectar from a Mullien flower in my herb garden.