Mary Oliver requests, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” after describing an absolutely picturesque summer day, a day she gave her full attention. The question remains open every day you remain able to open your eyes. We have a future with every breath we draw.

It was the case that Ms. Oliver was asking about intention, not implementation. “What is it do you plan to do”, not what have you done. We’re not being held accountable – this poem would have felt like a scold if it had. Scold isn’t Oliver’s style. Wonder is. Wonder lives in the present and daydreams about the future. She does not have to hold us accountable for how we choose to live because our own mortality will do that for us.

A colleague of mine passed away tragically and unexpectedly. It doesn’t feel right to write much detail about it. So I won’t. Some gist though: younger than me, mother, house fire. Just some packaged terribleness, in the razor-frayed packaging terribleness comes in.

In describing the whole thing to my husband, it hit me: There is a point that “what do you plan to do with your one wild and precious life” becomes “what did you do?” Because, the preceding line, “Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?” Yes. Yes it does. And you don’t know when.