Poetry Friday - The Summer Day

I think I am mourning the passing of summer. My husband and I went for a short drive this evening and both of us noted that it was getting dark earlier. I have loved my summer again this year; I don't believe I'm ready for it to morph into autumn. Obviously it doesn't matter whether I'm ready or not. I do live in a part of the world that enjoys summer well into the month of September. In fact, most of us in the Pacific Northwest do not consider June to be a part of the summer months - rather summer comes in July, August, and September! To honor this time of thoughtful relaxation, I submit one of my favorite summer poems for Poetry Friday.

The Summer Day by 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 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?