sometimes poetry just hits you
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?
'The Summer Day', Mary Oliver
'What do you plan to do with your wild and precious life' really is a wonderful way of phrasing that question, and it's so much in my headspace right now. I'd like to, more than anything, write a really amazing story and have it published. I'd like to make some kind of impact for the causes I support. I, too, would like to spend more than one day in idle contemplation of fields and rivers. I'd like to do a lot of things. What would you like to do?
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?
'The Summer Day', Mary Oliver
'What do you plan to do with your wild and precious life' really is a wonderful way of phrasing that question, and it's so much in my headspace right now. I'd like to, more than anything, write a really amazing story and have it published. I'd like to make some kind of impact for the causes I support. I, too, would like to spend more than one day in idle contemplation of fields and rivers. I'd like to do a lot of things. What would you like to do?