for Mary Oliver
Robins have made a home in our backyard.
Today, an old fat one lights upon the row
of potted nasturtiums
I placed upon the wall of the garden bed.
Light plastic pots filled with weightless potting soil,
he hops one to the other,
the entire line without knocking one over
and with each hop he sings, “joy, joy, joy.”
Later in the day,
a sudden cloud burst
drenches the garden
and the flower pots
are the pipes of a mighty
church organ and each
plays one beautiful note,
that joins with the others
in transcendent harmony,
“joy, joy, joy.”
to be yourself
we refine ourselves
add to ourselves
through acts of kindness
help others
share love
define ourselves
through sorrows
our errors
our foolishness
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