Good Night Moon

Have you seen the Harvest moon these last last few nights?  I try to make it a habit to go outside on the deck off of our bedroom each night before bed and take it into my heart.
He smiles at me -- you know.
There is a poet from Kentucky (Papa Joe's and my home state) that writes poems that settle my soul.  His name is Wendell Berry.

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 the day-blind stars

waiting with their light.  For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.