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| Northern Mockingbird |
The Gift
I wanted to thank the
mockingbird for the vigor of his song.
Every day he sang from the rim
of the field, while I picked
blueberries or just idled in the sun.
Every day he came fluttering by
to show me, and why not,
the white blossoms in his wings.
So one day I went there with a
machine, and played some songs of
Mahler.
The mockingbird stopped singing,
he came close and seemed
to listen.
Now when I go down to the field,
a little Mahler spills
through the sputters of his song.
How happy I am, lounging in the
light, listening as the music
floats by!
And I give thanks also for my
mind, that thought of giving
a gift.
And mostly, I’m grateful that I
take this world so seriously.
Mary Oliver
Mary Oliver
Oliver, Mary. "The Gift." House of Light. Boston: Beacon Press, 1990. p 36.
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| A clutch of Mockingbird eggs |
