I got into my car today just in time to hear one of my favorite writers on the radio—Ted Kooser. Hearing him read reminded me how much I love his poem, “A Happy Birthday.” I keep it near my desk at work so I can always be reminded of how something so small can be so perfect—like a robin’s egg. Here it is:
This evening, I sat by an open window
and read till the light was gone and the book
was no more than a part of the darkness.
I could easily have switched on a lamp,
but I wanted to ride this day down into night,
to sit alone and smooth the unreadable page
with the pale gray ghost of my hand.