Mary Oliver is a magnificent poet, writing mostly about the wonders of animals and the natural world. She has won many awards, including the Pulitzer Prize in 1984. This poem is from her 2012 book, "A Thousand Mornings". This hermit thrush was photographed in the Mer Bleue bog area.

In our Woods, Sometimes a Rare Music

Every spring
I hear the thrush singing
in the glowing woods
he is only passing through.
His voice is deep,
then he lifts it until it seems
to fall from the sky.
I am thrilled.

I am grateful.

Then, by the end of the morning,
he's gone, nothing but silence
out of the tree
where he rested for a night.
And this I find acceptable.
Not enough is a poor life.
But too much is, well, too much.
Imagine Verdi or Mahler
every day, all day.
It would exhaust anyone.

To see others remembering Maire in song, poem and proverb: http://forum.pbase.com/viewtopic.php?f=16&t=47823&sid=43007bc7bde6f9b742565e0da91d6967