North Country

In the north country now it is spring and there
    is a certain celebration. The thrush
has come home. He is shy and likes the
    evening best, also the hour just before
morning; in that blue and gritty light he
    climbs to his branch, or smoothly
sails there. It is okay to know only
    one song if it is this one. Hear it
rise and fall; the very elements of your soul
    shiver nicely. What would spring be
without it? Mostly frogs. But don’t worry, he

arrives, year after year, humble and obedient
    and gorgeous. You listen and you know
you could live a better life than you do, be
    softer, kinder. And maybe this year you will
be able to do it. Hear how his voice
    rises and falls. There is no way to be
sufficiently grateful for the gifts we are
    given, no way to speak the Lord’s name
often enough, though we do try, and

especially now, as that dappled breast
    breathes in the pines and heaven’s
windows in the north country, now spring has come,
    are opened wide.