A song thrush singing in the wood makes the poet think of God

After perhaps fifteen minutes or so
I gave up looking for the song thrush.
Not because I am impatient,
though there is that,
not because I didn’t want
my coffee to get cold,
though there is that;
no, it is because I realised
that as long as I was searching
I was not listening,
as long as my mind was grasping
my heart was not receiving,
as long as my eyes were straining
to find the source of the music
I could not stop to revel in the fact
that there should be music at all.

Gideon Heugh