By Ted Kooser
"A farmhouse window far back from the highway
speaks to the darkness in a small, sure voice.
Against this stillness, only a kettle's whisper,
and against the starry cold, one small blue ring of flame."
With sleet or snow falling outside, Eastown feels like it's
preparing for a long winter instead of anticipating spring.
Birds chirp at dawn, full of life, but quiet once the sun,
like a ghost, rises silently behind
heavy grey clouds.
So again, as a creature of habit, my feet took me across
the street to the snug coffeeshop where I now sit,
gazing at snowflakes and a cup of Kenyan coffee.