Summer -- Mary Oliver

Guest poem sent in by Arunasri Nishtala

(Poem #1678) Summer Leaving the house, I went out to see The frog, for example, in her satiny skin; and her eggs like a slippery veil; and her eyes with their golden rims; and the pond with its risen lilies; and its warmed shores dotted with pink flowers; and the long, windless afternoons; and the white heron like a dropped cloud, taking one slow step then standing awhile then taking another, writing her own soft-footed poem through the still waters. -- Mary Oliver

This poem says it all. Delightfully vivid and the last lines dive deep,
where poetry is a hobby of frogs...

I guess it is our attempt in understanding and appreciating art, poetry
and nature that that can lift us human beings up to the high standards
of the other members of nature: the plant kingdom and the animal kingdom.

Arunasri