A Birthday Poem by Ted Kooser (1939- ) Just past dawn, the sun stands with its heavy red head in a black stanchion of trees, waiting for someone to come with his bucket for the foamy white light, and then a long day in the pasture. I too spend my days grazing, feasting on every green moment till darkness calls, and with the others I walk away into the night, swinging the little tin bell of my name
Posted on: Mon, 28 Apr 2014 13:00:00 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015