On a withered branch outside my window
A crow alights and whispers in my ear
A worried wind blows from northwest of Canada
I long for the peace of wild things
When shadows grow thin, sadness swells within me
My dreams are of nothing but fear
I go to the wood where white deer lie sleeping
And rest in the peace of wild things
The call of the great blue heron
A snow-white swan gliding on the lake of dawn
The scarlet cloak of autumn, feathers falling
I go where the wild things have gone
When my life is strained, shadows cloud my dreaming
I go where the golden eagles soar
The heavens lie sleeping above and below me
I rest in the peace of wild things
For a moment I rest
In the grace of creation
Free, free like the wild things