I am not much of a Margaret Atwood fan. I have read several of her novels (Surfacing and The Handmaid's Tale, as well as at least one other one, I'm pretty sure), but without being thrilled by them, and I have never been that excited about her poetry, either.
But I like this one, on Poetry Daily today.
He wasn't singing for you, or about you.
He had some other source of joy