This grasshopper I mean-the one who is 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 for arms 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 scroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done? Does everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is your plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
For 50 years Valley Beth Shalom, has collected poetry, stories and meditations to celebrate the High Holidays. This year I’m posting daily some of the best from the archive.
