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
I love the way this poem sneaks up on you at the end.
What do you plan to do with your ONE life?
Yeah, I'm going all buddhist on yo asses.
7 comments:
I plan to do what I've always planned to do: be happy.
Or, as a teen, I planned to MAKE myself happy.
I wonder when I'll be there. Or should I settle for contentment instead?
I plan to make a difference to those I teach, wherever I am and to pass on the things I learn about to my children and those around me. And of course, be happy in doing whatever I am doing.
I love that poem.
Big hugs to you Melba.
After the week we've just had around here, I am more determined than ever to treasure every minute, every breath, every smile, and certainly every cuddle with my gorgeous little boys.
I'd like to do some good around the place too.
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