THE GIFT
            Mary Oliver
                p. 1990*
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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.


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* from _House_of_Light_, 1990

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