Tuesday, February 1, 2011

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 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've been thinking about summer today as i haul firewood and shovel snow.
on another note, i'm pretty into this chair pad i made with the old rag balls i've been talking about:

and now i'm going to go make some brinner.  olivia thinks it should be called dinfast.  ridiculous, i say.  but you can't argue with that girl and win.


erin said...

you are all kinds of inspiring lately. mary oliver is an all time favorite.

nicole said...

I could build my life around that poem. Beautiful. Thank you.

Lambert said...

Love the chair pad, as in give-it-to-me-I-love-it.