After fifty years of tracking clouds
I’ve become cold rain upon my life.
How odd to see the mist so clearly.
~ Jim Harrison & Ted Kooser, Braided Creek: A Conversation in Poetry
Image: zero-void
Tag: Jim Harrison
Some days…
Some days one needs to hide from possibility.
~ Jim Harrison & Ted Kooser, Braided Creek: A Conversation in Poetry
Notes: Photograph via YourEyesBlazeOut
Home from my walk, shoes off, at peace.
The weight of my old dog, Hattie —
thirty five pounds of knocking bones, sighs, tremors and dreams —
just isn’t enough to hold a patch of sun in its place, at least for very long.
While she shakes in her sleep,
its slips from beneath her and inches away,
taking the morning with it —
the music from the radio,
the tea from my cup,
the drowsy yellow hours —
picking up dust and
dog hair as it goes.
~ Ted Kooser. December 14. Home from my walk, shoes off, at peace.
At six in the morning, my circle of light
Walking by flashlight
at six in the morning,
my circle of light on the gravel
swinging side by side,
coyote, racoon, field mouse, sparrow,
each watching from darkness
this man with the moon on a leash.
~ Ted Kooser. November 18. Cloudy, dark and windy.
Continue reading “At six in the morning, my circle of light”
Shifting their weight from side to side
At first light,
The bare trees sway,
but not together.
Shifting their weight from side to side,
they are like a crowd
that has waited all night for a gate to open.
~ Ted Kooser. February 13. Breezy and pleasant.