Aging arms splotched with purple and red signs of tangling with jagged dead branches among white pines along the back of the yard reach for a copy of Ted Kooser's Flying at Night. Pages flip for a stop here and there to read Sunset, Carp and Spring Plowing Envy swells inside him with the realization that he will never write such fine poems which prompt memories of childhood adventures living rural among tiger lilies blooming in meadows, newborn calves teetering toward first steps, and freshly spread manure capturing the scent of fall air. His fingers still grimy from early morning planting place Kooser's volume carefully beside his empty coffee cup content that he is blessed to have discovered it that day hiding next to classic tomes by Shakespeare and Whitman. He rises to tackle digging potholes for double begonias to decorate his yard and and to dream of pages unread.
http://www.tedkooser.net/poems.shtmlΒ Β (more about Kooser) http://www.livinghistoryfarm.org/farminginthe40s/movies/KooserPlowing.html