Two Poems

Naomi Shihab Nye has a new book of poems out for young people. I've flipped through most of it, and this poem about Ted Kooser, former U. S. Poet Laureate, is my favorite. I've retyped it here for you as well as a favorite poem by Kooser himself. Happy Friday.










Ted Kooser Is My President
by Naomi Shihab Nye

When I travel abroad, I will invoke
Ted's poems at checkpoints:
yes, barns, yes, memory, gentility,
the quiet little wind among stones.
If they ask, You are American?
I will say, Ted's kind of American.
No, I carry no scissors or matches.
Yes, horizons, dinner tables.
Yes, weather, the honesty of it.
Buttons, chickens. Feel free
to dump my purse. I'll wander
to the window, stare out for days.
Actually, I have never been
to Nebraska, except with Ted,
who hosted me dozens of times,
though we have never met.
His deep assurance comforts me.
He's not big on torture at all.
He could probably sneak into your country
when you weren't looking
and say something really good about it.
Have you noticed those purple blossoms
in a clump beside your wall?



Five P.M.
by Ted Kooser

The pigeon flies to her resting place
on a window ledge above the traffic,
and her shadow, which cannot fly, climbs
swiftly over the bricks to meet her there.

Just so are you and I gathered at 5:00,
your bicycle left by the porch, the wind
still ringing in it, and my shoes by the bed,
still warm from walking home to you.