Wendell Berry’s poems, fiction, and non-fiction have been a near-constant companion on the road. As some of you who have read earlier posts know, we started this trip with the goal of restoring body and spirit in some of the country’s most beautiful places. There are few authors who better speak to that desire than Mr. Berry.
As an example, here’s a short poem that I used to read in the urban jungles of Beijing. It may have single-handedly brought us back to the American wild.
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,