MaineCourse

A Birthday Poem

For my mother on her eighty-eigtht birhday.

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.

Ted Kooser

Beautiful poem from son to mother. Happy Birthday Helen.

Posted by chris.

Happy Birthday, HO! Tell Mack to take you dancing ... ! Kidding -- but may the love of your children shown in ways like this make your heart dance!

Posted by adam.

Michael, the flowers you sent Helen are beautiful!

Posted by neighbor.

Thanks, neighbor. You never know when you're ordering from afar, but the combination of good folks in that flower shop up the street and the words, "Spare no expense," goes a long way.

Posted by michael.

Posted by Michael at September 1, 2005 12:41 PM