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Thursday, June 21, 2007

first day of summer

(But thankfully cool enough to feel like spring!)

So to mark the changing of the seasons, here's a poem by my favourite poet, the incomparable Mary Oliver.

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?

Oliver, Mary. New and Selected Poems. Boston: Beacon Press, 1992.


Anonymous krissa said...

What strikes me as I read this poem is that I was instantly a child again. I remember holding grasshoppers so carefully and watching them...I remember loving summer (that was a long time ago)...I remember walking by myself through vast fields in the Nebraska farmland. ...The poem is not written in a childish way, but it transported me through time back to my own childhood. .. Thanks for another great post! :)

June 22, 2007 3:29 p.m.

Blogger KJ's muse said...

Glad to have helped you down memory lane! But that's one of the things I love about about blogging and writing in general. You just never know what it will trigger. :)

June 24, 2007 6:18 p.m.


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