Peace in wild things

 To be in peace with wild things has a wit, what makes it with them to fit. 

On lonely roads and in life schools, bless them for refusing all the rules.

To seek the wild — the fox, the wren, that peace might be from them, not men.

Men will tell you peace is much toil and fuss, a treaty signed, a war we did not lose.

The wild knows better, peace is simply thus, to be and to be left to be without a fuss.

The heron does not argue with the sky, simply takes the magnificent not shy.

The elephant in majestic point to see, he never held the grudge to be, he is free.

People think that peace must be achieved, acquired, to be immensely much desired.

Cathedrals for it and sacred books, with furrowed, philosophic, anxious looks.

While all the time the Hawk on the bough, is living peace know quite how.

To be in peace with wild things to know, You are a wild thing, even so.

In You there is a feral grace, that cannot be confined to time and place.

A part of You that will not come when called, that can't be improved or walled.

When that wild in You meets wild with them, weathers wind and starry diadem.

There is no handshake no accord to sign, only a sudden sense of divine.

It speaks through deeper sense, if You have remembered how, and recall to know.

To be in peace with wild things by dear, some gentle whispers in the ear. 

How things should be and for one blessed hour, to let the world be wild, and have its power.