August Summer Days

August 1st, 2017 | Posted by Velda in POETRY FOR WOMEN | RETIRED FEATURE POSTS

August Summer Days

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.

August Summer Days

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.

August Summer Days

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 OliverThe Summer Day

August Summer Days

I discovered the heart above while nature walking along a river at Breitenbush Hot Springs, Oregon.  

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