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?

A Day of Sharing Words

I just received this notification on my Photo Art Journal Yahoo group, passed on by Michelle Unger from LK Ludwig. LK has had a great idea of having a poetry exchange via the blogsphere. on next Wednesday, November 19th. If you want to join in, the instructions are as follows:

We have words that touch us, move into our hearts and resonate, creating a feeling, taking us some place- past, present, future- perhaps some place we have never been and may never go, but for whatever reasons, the words pulse in our blood. Meeting new words, new poets, new poems, new ways for my heart to beat, is an intruiging concept. Want to go on this adventure with me? It will be easy to travel along.Many of us already do this sharing; this idea is just to help us find each other and hear the words we have to share.

The Date:
Wednesday, November 19.

The Plan:
1. On your blog, post a poem that moves inside you, touches you, reaches you. (quotes and song lyrics also welcome). Include the author (or composer or musician) and source (book, album)- perhaps also the Amazon link if there is one. no explanation required, no other revelation about the poem you are choosing is necessary. One last thing- Perhaps add an image. a photo. a video. a painting. a collage., if you would.

2. Come here to this post on L.K. Ludwig's blog.

3. Add a comment with your link and L.K. will create a typepad page with the links, so others can hear the rhythm of the words, see the image and share in the experience.

The Request:
If you are intrigued enough, post on your blog about this Day of Sharing Words- encourage your friends to post. Who couldn't use a few new poems in their treasury or new songs in their hearts?

A Walk in the Woods of Lacamas Lake

I went for a walk in the woods today...oh, not the proper forest, as I could still hear the clap of golf balls being hit on the adjacent course and see the McMansions through the trees....but even so, as I entered the canopy of mixed deciduous trees and Douglas firs, I felt the burdens of civilized life fall away. I drank in the visual banquet around me - leaves in all shades of gold and brown, the burnt umber of the tree trunks, the deep rich green of the moss, the pale white of the berries and rich red of the rosehips. Small mushrooms with steeple tops littered the ground in places looking like fairy lanterns that light the way along a secret path. I could hear a chorus of frogs at the edge of the water and the birds above sang a sweet and melancholy melody telling of the winter ahead. I gethered moss covered twigs and pine cones for art projects that will occupy my time during the cold, grey days ahead. The lake level was low, exposing mud flats not normally seen and the water birds were absent from their usual backwater feeding spots. Though it was only 4 PM, the sun had already begun it's descent, sending weak hues of rose and lavender to tint the clouds near the horizon. I head back with a peace of soul I have not had in days. As I near the parking lot, a young jogger passes by, heading in the opposite direction. He grinned widely, grasping a single long-stemmed red rose in one hand and as he ran by, my thoughts drifted to the young woman at the end of his path, clasping his rose to her heart - her eyes filled with wonder and the stars of the evening sky.