Goodbye Summer Sun.

This morning was gray and cold and drizzly. Looks like summer's busting a move on out of here. Well, it was a great fling summer. I really enjoyed your company. I like what you did with the place, all that sunshine and what not. I love your style, bikinis, barefeet, sundresses and cut-off. And remember that roadtrip we went on along the pacific ocean, over snow-capped mountains, and through red deserts? Yeah, I'll never forget that either. You're gonna be a hard one to get over...

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 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