Breathing

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?

Bamboo in Nanjing,China

Mary Oliver:  I am breathing

Breathing just a little

life flows

without thought

of each moment passing

away

draining into the next

every drop of anticipation

sucked dry

of life's rich bounty

unfolding

in the unexpected joy

of being alive.

Breathing together

of all things

I find myself

awakened

revelling in every drop

of anticipation

dripping wet in the ripe, rich fruit

of life

flowing

effortlessly

into the unexpected joy

of being alive.

http://recoveryourjoy.blogspot.com/2012/06/mary-oliver-i-am-breathing-poem.html