Monday, February 15, 2010
'The Summer Day'
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
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?
What are you planning to do with your wild and precious life? What about this one day?