Monday, June 18, 2007

Lafayette Street, June 2007

The Summer Day
Mary Oliver

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?


  1. wonderful!
    i wish a good week upon you!

  2. It's one of my favorites by Ms. Oliver. A perfect poem for midsummer.

    Thank you!

  3. Great post!

    I don't worry about what I'm going to do with my "one wild and precious life" because I don't believe that I only have one life...and we err when we assign our "being-ness" to the time between the cradle and the grave.

  4. Terrific post Steve. I have been asking myself that same question lately. :)