No other poet has spoken to the quiet corners of my brain quite like Ted Kooser. He effortlessly recalls the simplest of memories and weaves them in such a way that every reader connects to his thoughts, as if they were their own. This poem is a great example.
Those Summer Evenings
My father would, with a little squeak
and a shudder in the water pipes,
turn on the garden hose, and sprinkle
honeysuckle bushes clipped
to window height, so that later,
as we slept atop our rumpled sheets
with windows open to the scritch
of crickets, whatever breeze
might flirt its way between
our house and the neighbors’
would brush across the honeysuckle,
sweet and wet, and keep us cool.
– Ted Kooser, from Splitting an Order