Day One!

My first poem of the three hundred and sixty five is the namesake of this blog (and a shout out to Carolyn, who has this quote on her bedroom wall). Mary Oliver is the reason I love poetry; before I read her New and Selected Poems, Vol. 2 I thought I hated poetry. Before her I had only been exposed to lofty, difficult poetry like that of John Donne. I appreciate Donne now, but as a sophomore in high school he confused and frustrated me. Oliver's simple, natural style moved me in a way no poetry had before. She dissolved my poetry-prejudice and opened my mind to the wonders of Collins, Neruda, cummings, and others. So, here's to you Mary. Thank you.

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?