Wednesday, November 14, 2007

i know.

i know it isnt summer anymore, but this poem is just too good to keep to myself, seasonally appropriate or not. most of all (and right now specifically) i like the words: wild and precious. are our lives not just wild and precious. exclamation point. and dont i love and miss you dearly. exclamation point.

Thursday, November 8, 2007

to be idle and blessed.

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?

volunteer park conservatory. seattle.

a couple of moments to save.




our lady of guadalupe. 50 feet high. windsor, ohio.

perspective show. fourfriends. oct nov 2007.