Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
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-
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
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.
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
with your one wild and precious life?