Friday, April 20, 2012

The Summer Day

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-- the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down--
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

-Mary Oliver


Marei said...

Thank you so much for all this beautiful poetry. I love poetry and yet haven't really read/wrote/listened to it in such a long time. Your past few posts have been blissful.

Denise said...

I love this!!!!!!

Cathy said...

HI found you through another of the quiling blogs I follow and read a few of your poems and really enjoyed myself. I think I will stop by every morning for a word or two from one of your poets.

thank you