Wednesday, November 4, 2015
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
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3 comments:
Wow -- what a powerful poem!
That should be mandatory reading for every human being.
Just awesome Joe. Thanks for sharing it.
S-
Steve,
Hi, this is the first comment I ever got on a blog. Found it by accident even. This is not really a blog, I think I explained to you that it is a place where I put things so they do not get lost while I come back again and again, approaching them from different angles, sometimes head on, somethings sneaking up on them, until I think I understand, with both mind and heart. Sometimes it takes a while, even years.
Glad I could share a poem you liked. This poem is one of Mary's most famous ones. For me, more powerful, and even more amazing than any of the mysteries she hints at, is the fact that this poem has no power at all for most people who read it.
Joe
Joe,
I am so glad I could be your first! Should we have a cigarette now?
S-
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