Three Poems
by Ted Kooser
Horse
In its stall stands the 19th century,
its hide a hot shudder of satin,
head stony and willful,
an eye brown as a river and watchful:
a sentry a long way ahead
of a hard, dirty army of hooves.
A Winter Morning
A farmhouse window far back from the highway
speaks to the darkness in a small, sure voice.
Against this stillness, only a kettles whisper,
and against the starry cold, one small blue ring of flame.
A Happy Birthday
This evening, I sat by an open window
and read till the light was gone and the book
was no more than a part of the darkness.
I could easily have switched on a lamp,
but I wanted to ride this day down into night,
to sit alone and smooth the unreadable page
with the pale gray ghost of my hand.
Before his retirement, Ted Kooser (American, born 1939) worked as an insurance company executive. In 2004 he began serving the first of two terms as Poet Laureate and in 2005 won a Pulitzer Prize for Darkness and Shadows, a collection that includes the three poems above.
by Ted Kooser
Horse
In its stall stands the 19th century,
its hide a hot shudder of satin,
head stony and willful,
an eye brown as a river and watchful:
a sentry a long way ahead
of a hard, dirty army of hooves.
A Winter Morning
A farmhouse window far back from the highway
speaks to the darkness in a small, sure voice.
Against this stillness, only a kettles whisper,
and against the starry cold, one small blue ring of flame.
A Happy Birthday
This evening, I sat by an open window
and read till the light was gone and the book
was no more than a part of the darkness.
I could easily have switched on a lamp,
but I wanted to ride this day down into night,
to sit alone and smooth the unreadable page
with the pale gray ghost of my hand.
Before his retirement, Ted Kooser (American, born 1939) worked as an insurance company executive. In 2004 he began serving the first of two terms as Poet Laureate and in 2005 won a Pulitzer Prize for Darkness and Shadows, a collection that includes the three poems above.
