The Summer Day
Mary OliverWho 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?
I like the slow dance poem
Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round, or listened to the rain slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight, or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down, don't dance so fast, Time is short, the music won't last.
Do you run through each day on the fly, when they ask "How are you?", do you hear the reply?
When the day is done, do you lie in your bed, with the next hundred chores running through your head?
You better slow down, don't dance so fast, time is short, the music won't last.
Ever told your child, we'll do it tomorrow, and in your haste, not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch, let a friendship die, 'Coz you never had time to call and say 'Hi'?
You better slow down, don't dance so fast, Time is short, the music won't last.
When you run so fast to get somewhere, you miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day, it's like an unopened gift thrown away.
Life is not a race, do take it slower, hear its music before the song is over.
