Edward Hester

Rookie (December 9,1943 / Greenville, NC)

Ordinary Days - Poem by Edward Hester

Morning seeps over the horizon
Like a hot cup of coffee, steaming. Sunlight
Spills through the trees, awakening the meadow.

The dog is out the door before me. Now old, she
Acts like a puppy to make me feel good,
Though some mornings, she can hardly stand.

I step down the porch, noisily awakening the grass
Together, we stretch the sleepiness from our I’s.
I feel the grass laughing at me in my belly.

Like children.
I pay them no mind.
Grass laughs at everything.
And old folks
Never get too much laughter to lighten the days.

But I surprise the oaks and sycamores dressing,
Pulling up their green up to cover their nakedness.
Embarrassed, they raise their boughs to cover up.

Course, at our age, I’ve seen it all and
Smile to show I really didn’t see nothing.
They know me though and really don’t mind my wink.

Ritually, the trees salute the Sun. I too raise
My arms to Grandfather Sun.
Thank you for my life and this glorious day!

The birds, already awake, flit by like cars
On their way to work, distracted on their skyways,
Scolding other drivers. Already on the job!

The mare greets me when I draw the barn door
She waits so patiently, snoozing
Her welcoming smile sounds: huh! huh! huhs!

My chatter tells her of my pleasure. She smells so good
As I measure out her morning breakfast,
Walking it out to the pasture feeder.

She goes out the door at a trot, nostrils flared, tail up.
Nothing starts the day so well as breakfast!
And a pop on her fanny reassures her I care.

The goose on the lawn has already staked out his spot
Anticipating a clumsy horse breakfast. And the
Crows wait at the top of the sycamore for their turn.

The cat spots me returning from the barn
Meows, turns, offering me a friendly sniff.
But I pass, hoping she won’t take offense.

Bridget, our dog, is awaiting her cookie on the porch.
I fetch it, and then settle down with my hot coffee mug
To catch the news, and plan my day.

Ordinary things, nothing special, same as before,
Just living life: feeling, seeing, caring for, hearing
Touching, smelling, making love to life on Earth.

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, April 23, 2006

Poem Edited: Saturday, July 17, 2010

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