In this World in  General   

The hill pasture, an open place among the trees,
tilts into the valley. The clovers and tall grasses
are in bloom. Along the foot of the hill
dark floodwater moves down the river.
The sun sets. Ahead of nightfall the birds sing.
I have climbed up to water the horses
and now sit and rest, high on the hillside,
letting the day gather and pass. Below me
cattle graze out across the wide fields of the bottomlands,
slow and preoccupied as stars. In this world
men are making plans, wearing themselves out,
spending their lives, in order to kill each other.

By Wendell Berry

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Other poems by Wendell Berry:

• 1991-I
• 1991-II
• A Meeting
• A Warning To My Readers
• Do not be ashamed
• For The Future
• In A Motel Parking Lot, Thinking Of Dr. Williams
• In this World
• Like The Water
• Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front
• Ripening
• Sabbaths 2001
• Testament
• The Country Of Marriage
• The Lilies
• The Man Born to Farming
• The peace of wild things
• The Real Work
• The Silence
• The Wish to be Generous
• Water
• What We Need Is Here
• Woods