In the Corners of Fields by Ted Kooser Something is calling to me from the corners of fields, where the leftover fence wire suns its loose coils, and stones thrown out of the furrow sleep in warm litters; where the gray faces of old No Hunting signs mutter into the wind, and dry horse tanks spout fountains of sunflowers; where a moth flutters in from the pasture, harried by sparrows, and alights on a post, so sure of its life that it peacefully opens its wings. In the Corners of Fields by Ted Kooser from Flying at Night. © University of Pittsburgh Press, 1985, from The Writers Almanac.
Posted on: Thu, 03 Jul 2014 05:59:52 +0000
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