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I Change my View of the World

(after Wendell Berry)

When despair for the world grows in me, I find

my Clearing, a place of whispering grasses,

sweet smell of wild flowers, the soft move-

ments of the  dappled-patterned fawn,

the slap of a beaver building her nest in the lake,

and look up into a sky blue as viewed from the moon

looking back at the small round marble of earth.

Even the business of the honey bee and wasp

gives a sweetness to the air where I will set up

my tent. I wait for the night’s stars and glistening

of the moon to find more goodness to bathe in.

When my spirit is renewed and I once more

return to my secular life, I will keep my tent

and maps of experience close in order to return

again and again.

jackie: 1//4/24

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Your poem takes me THERE. Thank you.

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