happy birthday, dad : )

in honor of my dad's birthday and also the first day of summer, i wanted to share a poem i have grown to love.  (my favorite part is italicized : )

summer field

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

i think her balance of observations and questions is so poignant in this particular poem.  each time i read it, it surprises me with its eloquence and simplicity.  so, today i ask you, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?