Do you have any fragments of poems, or songs that have weaved their way into your own inner seasons? Maybe a favorite line from a poem for Valentines? or a nostalgic Christmas tune that plays in your head once you hit December?
I do. Songs and poems, and July is always Mary Olivers – The Summer Day.
I adore how she conjures up the big questions from the air, and manages to divine them into her hand, and how, for the briefest of moments, time stops, but the clock never stops ticking.
Stop and look…she urges..see the beauty…and never forget it is fleeting.
I imagine her day of walking through the summer fields, the grass high and tickling her legs, swifts and swallows in the air and the thick smell of baked earth and hot green leaves.
We go on holiday next week to the Isle of Wight, and I am longing to see the sea! I am a girl of the woods by nature, but I have been dreaming of a blue, sparkling sea on a warm July day and no matter how cold it is, I am swimming.
That is what we must all remember to do in July, to find our own wild prayers and to follow them with all our beings.
Be idle and blessed.
Haile x o
The Summer Day – a poem 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?
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Images are my own.