Prior to the publication of my first book, Ted Kooser told me he was particularly moved by "Finely Crafted Ending," which is one of the poems that made its way into Straining to Catch Every Leaf. His endorsement, unofficial and informal, was nonetheless timely encouragement. At the time, I wondered if it were not foolishness - thinking to publish poetry so late in life. Encouragement may be understatement given my respect for Mr. Kooser, who was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in Poetry (2005) and selected United States Poet Laureate (2004-2006).
As indication of my respect and gratitude, I share one of many Ted Kooser poems that grabs hold and shakes me. From Delights & Shadows (2004) -
MOTHER
Mid April already, and the wild plums
bloom at the roadside, a lacy white
against the exuberant, jubilant green
of new grass and the dusty, fading black
of burned-out ditches. No leaves, not yet,
only the delicate, star-petaled
blossoms, sweet with their timeless perfume.
You have been gone a month today
and have missed three rains and one nightlong
watch for tornadoes. I sat in the cellar
from six to eight while fat spring clouds
went somersaulting, rumbling east. Then it poured,
a storm that walked on legs of lightning,
dragging its shaggy belly over the fields.
The meadowlarks are back, and the finches
are turning from green to gold. Those same
two geese have come to the pond again this year,
honking in over the trees and splashing down.
They never nest, but stay a week or two
then leave. The peonies are up, the red sprouts
burning in circles like birthday candles,
for this is the month of my birth, as you know,
the best month to be born in, thanks to you,
everything ready to burst with living.
There will be no more new flannel nightshirts
sewn on your old black Singer, no birthday card
addressed in a shaky but businesslike hand.
You asked me if I would be sad when it happened
and I am sad. But the iris I moved from your house
now hold in the dusty dry fists of their roots
green knives and forks as if waiting for dinner,
as if spring were a feast. I thank you for that.
Were it not for the way you taught me to look
at the world, to see the life at play in everything,
I would have to be lonely forever.
"Mother" - Republished from Delights & Shadows, from Copper Canyon Press, by permission of Ted Kooser.
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