I do not consider myself a poet but I do love poetry. This one of my favorite poems, poets and styles. Nature inspires her work and that is what inpires me. I thought I'd use her poem and answer her, in her style.
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?
My answer to Mary
God made the world
He made the forest, and the cedar tree.
He made the river.
The river, I watch
the one that flows through the forest with urgency,
the one that rushes over rocks without looking back.
Now it rests in shaded pools with rippled breath.
Now it's ripples join the spray, rushing away.
I know exactly what prayer is.
I do know how to find him, how to listen
for his voice, how to speak of my fears,
how to be still and trusting, how to find him in nature,
which is what I do each day.
I'll tell you, this is all I know to do.
Everything must die and too soon.
I'll tell you what I plan to do
with my one special life and blessings,