In the shower on a lazy morning,

in the bedroom on a sleepless night,

I catch myself singing everything

from "You're My Best Friend" to "Kid Charlemagne"

to "O the Deep Deep Love of Jesus" ---

in my creaking and pitiable tenor

(a bargain-counter tenor?)

which makes me sound like Frasier Crane

going through puberty.

I think of Ingrid and Bina

singing Thomas Tallis and William Byrd,

and I am quite abashed.

Abashed, but grateful

for all the voices,

from Geraldine Hollett's to Natalie Merchant's,

from Sinatra's to Ben Vereen's,

who bestow upon all grateful listeners

the gift and grace of song.