December 30: "The Summer Day," Smallest of Things, Bigfoot Poems

Mary Oliver learns something from a grasshopper . . . 

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 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?

Yes, life really is all about paying attention, even to the smallest of things--like a grasshopper eating sugar from your palm.  A prayer is simply recognizing the universe's gifts.  Taking heed.  And, above all, celebrating the one wild and precious life you are given.

This post is the second-to-last in the Year of Mary Oliver.  I've really enjoyed my time with Mary.  She has taught me so much about poetry and grace.  Leaving her behind will be difficult.  (In case you're wondering, I have picked out a new author and book for 2024, but you will have to wait until Monday to find out.

However, I will carry the lessons of Mary with me for the rest of my life.  Particularly those lessons regarding joy and happiness.  And I have something to celebrate on this second-to-last night of the year.

This morning, I received an email from an editor informing me that he's accepting seven of my poems for publication, including three Bigfoot poems.  It's the first time I've ever sent my Bigfoot out into the world, and the world seems to like him.

No matter how many times I get published, each time I get a letter or (more often these days) an email, my wild and precious life seems filled with butterflies sipping sugar from my hand.  Sweet and blessed.  My whole day has been sun and celebration, right down to the long walks I took with my puppy and the turkey pot pie my sister made for dinner.  

For Saint Marty, 2023 is going out with a bang instead of a whimper.