A few years ago friend mailed me a book of poems, “Winter Morning Walks,” by Ted Kooser. The last time I’d really read poetry was in a college night school class. Also, one time I tried reading poetry and drinking wine on my fire escape as an artist’s date. Fire escapes are uncomfortable.
“Winter Morning Walks” is filled with 100 short poems, written by Ted which he mailed nearly daily for a season by postcard to his friend, Jim Harrison. My friend had made something of a ritual of reading the poems through the winter, starting on November 9th, which is the date of the first poem. She invited me, and a few other friends to join her on the journey.
There isn’t a poem everyday and inevitably some days there are poems and a person will forget to read them. But Ted’s demeanor is playful, and forgiving. And what’s truly lovely about the gift is that each year, November 9th will arrive, and the thread of Ted’s poetry (and e-mail) will gather us, and we’ll all come back together again.