Your Sunday Poem

This from Ted Kooser's book, "Flying at Night." Mr. Kooser's collections are availabe in paperback.  Do yourself a favor; buy one or two and dip into them every few days for some real treasures.

At the Center

In Kansas, on top
of an old piano,
a starfish, dry
as a fancy pastry
left sitting there
during a wedding,
spreads its brown arms
over the foam
of a white lace doily,
reaching for water
in five directions.

Your Sunday Poem

This delightful poem is by one of my favorite poets, Ted Kooser, from his book “Flying at Night; Poems 1965, 1985” Support your favorite poet, order one of his or her books today and enjoy.

In an Old Apple Orchard

The wind’s an old man
to this orchard; these trees
have been feeling
the soft tug of his gloves
for a hundred years.
Now it’s April again,
and again that old fool
thinks he’s young.
He’s combed the dead leaves
out of his beard; he’s put on
perfume. He’s gone off
late in the day
toward the town, and come back
slow in the morning,
reeling with bees.
As late as noon, if you look
in the long grass,
you can see him
still rolling about in his sleep.