I love to start my day reading a little poetry.  At random I pull down a book of poetry from the shelf and flip it open to an arbitrary page.

imagesSo how about a little Billy Collins to start this day. This poem is from Aimless Love, a collection of new and selected poems.

“The Golden Years“

All I do these drawn-out days
is sit in my kitchen at Pheasant Ridge
where there are no pheasant to be seen
and last time I looked, no ridge.

I could drive over to Quail Falls
and spend the day there playing bridge,
but the lack of a falls and absence of quail
would only remind me of Pheasant Ridge.

I know a widow at Fox Run
and another with a condo at Smokey Ledge.
One of them smokes, and neither can run
so I’ll stick to the pledge I made to Midge.

Who frightened the fox and bulldozed the ledge?
I ask in my kitchen at Pheasant Ridge.

I’d love to hear what you think about the poem and/or the poet, your reactions, what feelings or memories the piece evokes.

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