This morning <br />two mockingbirds <br />in the green field <br />were spinning and tossing <br /> <br />the white ribbons <br />of their songs <br />into the air. <br />I had nothing <br /> <br />better to do <br />than listen. <br />I mean this <br />seriously. <br /> <br />In Greece, <br />a long time ago, <br />an old couple <br />opened their door <br /> <br />to two strangers <br />who were, <br />it soon appeared, <br />not men at all, <br /> <br />but gods. <br />It is my favorite story-- <br />how the old couple <br />had almost nothing to give <br /> <br />but their willingness <br />to be attentive-- <br />but for this alone <br />the gods loved them <br /> <br />and blessed them-- <br />when they rose <br />out of their mortal bodies, <br />like a million particles of water <br /> <br />from a fountain, <br />the light <br />swept into all the corners <br />of the cottage, <br /> <br />and the old couple, <br />shaken with understanding, <br />bowed down-- <br />but still they asked for nothing <br /> <br />but the difficult life <br />which they had already. <br />And the gods smiled, as they vanished, <br />clapping their great wings. <br /> <br />Wherever it was <br />I was supposed to be <br />this morning-- <br />whatever it was I said <br /> <br />I would be doing-- <br />I was standing <br />at the edge of the field-- <br />I was hurrying <br /> <br />through my own soul, <br />opening its dark doors-- <br />I was leaning out; <br />I was listening.<br /><br />Mary Oliver<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mockingbirds/
