goodbye summer days.

I have wandered idly through my own summer days. They are my favorite kind of day- when a ray of sunshine makes you feel connected to everything. A slow summer day can be like a meditation and leave a beautiful peace. So this poem by Mary Oliver makes me feel so sad. My own summer was filled with ruminating and anxiety. My brain was soaked in it. I tried all I could to stop it, but so many moments passed me by. They could have been good- not wasted on shit that does not matter. Maybe. But I also felt like I had no control over it, it owned me.

Tearfully, Dear Summer, I have to tell you that we must try again next year.



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?