I have always enjoyed poems that celebrate the small pleasures of life. Here Max Mendelsohn, age 12, of Weston, Massachusetts, tells us of the joy he finds in playing with marbles. [Introduction by Ted Kooser.]

Ode to Marbles

I love the sound of marbles   

scattered on the worn wooden floor,   

like children running away in a game of hide-and-seek.   

I love the sight of white marbles,   

blue marbles,   

green marbles, black,   

new marbles, old marbles,   

iridescent marbles,   

with glass-ribboned swirls,   

dancing round and round.   

I love the feel of marbles,   

cool, smooth,   

rolling freely in my palm,   

like smooth-sided stars   

that light up the worn world.