• I go among trees and sit still. All my stirring becomes quiet around me like circles on water. My tasks lie in their places where I left them, asleep like cattle... Then what I am afraid of comes. I live for a while in its sight.
    What I fear in it leaves it, And the fear of it leaves me. It sings, and I hear its song.

    Wendell Berry (1998). “A Timbered Choir: The Sabbath Poems, 1979-1997”, Counterpoint LLC