Summertime and Poetry

  Today was the first day (in Columbus) that really felt like Summer. I know it's been hot and it's been humid on days past. But today I actually thought....ah Summer is finally making an appearance!
  When I was outside watching four and five year children from my class play, the poem "The Summer Day" by Mary Oliver came to mind.
  The first poets that influenced me were Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton. But I realized after this maudlin period that although I still greatly admire these ladies I needed to explore other voices.  And along came Mary Oliver.
  I have a sweet memory of my mother giving me a copy of Mary Oliver's House of Light. At the time (1990ish), I had no idea how much her work would affect my world view and my writing. Her poems were game changers.  And even though I have read many, many poems by many, many poets, I still find myself visiting her poems again and again.
  I would encourage everyone (even if you are not a fan of poetry) to give her poems a read. They might just change you.



The Summer Day


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?

Mary Oliver