Introduction by Ted Kooser: In this short poem by Vermont writer Jean L. Connor, an older speaker challenges the perception that people her age have lost their vitality and purpose. Connor compares the life of such a person to an egret fishing. Though the bird stands completely still, it has learned how to live in the world, how to sustain itself, and is capable of quick action when the moment is right. 

Of Some Renown

For some time now, I have

lived anonymously. No one

appears to think it odd.

They think the old are,

well, what they seem. Yet

see that great egret

at the marsh’s edge, solitary,

still? Mere pretense

that stillness. His silence is

a lie. In his own pond he is

of some renown, a stalker,

a catcher of fish. Watch him.

Reprinted from “Passager,” 2001 by permission of the author. Copyright © 2001 by Jean L. Connor whose first book of poetry, A Cartography of Peace, is published by Passager Books, Baltimore. This weekly column is supported by The Poetry Foundation, The Library of Congress and the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. American Life in Poetry ©2005 The Poetry Foundation Contact: alp@poetryfoundation.org. This column does not accept unsolicited poetry.

I did something stupid this week. There was no way I could blame anyone else, no way I could weasel out of responsibility for it, or avoid looking my failure straight in the eye. Boy, was it painful. My insides churned with embarrassment, I was disappointed in myself, and it set me back on one of my goals big time. (No, I’m not going to tell you what it was.)

But you know what? I survived. Plus, I realized that my worst-case scenario had just happened, and it wasn’t the end of the world. What a gift! I can (and I will) come back from it.

Into every happy life, some failure must fall. If you have goals, especially big, ambitious ones, sooner or later you will fail. That’s just being human. No one ever succeeds at what they set out to do 100% of the time. As J.K. Rowling said, “It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all, in which case you have failed by default.”

So what can you learn from failure? How can you learn from it? Here are three ways to bounce back from failure:

1. Be courageous enough to think about your failure. Don’t pretend it didn’t happen, or try to twist a failure into a success. Can you figure out what caused your failure? What might you have done differently? In reflecting on my failure, I came up with several small things that came together to contribute to it—one of which was I that ignored my intuition and kept pushing forward when I should have stopped.

2. Get feedback from others. I know this is hard. My ego stomps its feet and storms off when I try this, and I’m not very good at it, but it does help. After my failure this week, I talked things over with someone, and she started me thinking about what I should have done differently (see point number one).

3. Make a plan for what you’ll do next. This will depend on the type and extent of your failure. Will you continue on with your goal, change directions, or stop altogether? I will continue with my goal, but take a step back to bolster some areas that need attention before moving forward.

And, if failure is as painful to you as it is to me, here is one more, all-important tip:

Fail more often. Try new things and different approaches. “Practice” failing. (I know. I don’t want to do it either.) And remember, failure isn’t the worst thing that can happen to you. What would be worse would be not to try at all.

If you love to read, libraries and bookstores give your soul a thrill. If you’re an artist, an art or office supply store sets all your senses tingling. And if you love horses and riding, a tack store is a little bit of heaven—a horse lover’s happy place.

Last Friday, my friend Marianne and I hit the road to visit one such horse lover’s happy place: the Dover Saddlery store in Winter Park.

Dover is an English rider’s dream. I bought my very first horse items from their catalog almost 12 years ago—and I’m still using them! Dover sends out a couple of fat, drool-inducing catalogs each year, as well as a couple of smaller sale catalogs. They opened the store in Winter Park in 2013 and I’ve been wanting to visit since then. When I got a flyer for a tent sale Feb. 5-7, it seemed like a good opportunity to go check it out. Plus I need a new helmet because mine is getting old…you know, any old excuse! Marianne was willing to tag along and navigate, and she was looking for a new halter for her mare, Glory.

When we arrived, sales girls handed us large, clear plastic bags to toss our loot into, and we entered the tent excited to see what bargains we could find. I was only slightly hampered by the fact that I don’t really need anything, other than the helmet and maybe another pair of riding socks. That didn’t stop me from walking up every aisle and examining tempting items like wicking riding shirts, horse blankets, small mesh hay feeders, and yes, patterned socks.

When we were done with the tent, we still had the store itself to explore. As soon as I walked in the door, I inhaled that leathery scent that makes my blood pressure fall and all my stress melt away. When I tell you that we covered nearly every inch of the store, I do not exaggerate. (Marianne has been there before, but she kindly allowed me all the exploring time I wanted.) Breeches, helmets, horse treats, more socks, grooming tools, leather goods and saddle pads…the store was packed with items to tempt us.

Alas, they didn’t have a helmet that fit me properly in my price range, so I’m still in the market. (I did learn that my head shape is more round than oval—who knew?) However, I did find these lovely items:

It was a pleasure to spend time with Marianne, and we talked horses to our hearts’ content. The new horsey items were a bonus. I love my socks and Tank looks lovely in his new purple pad.

Where is your happy place? How long has it been since you visited?

Introduction by Ted Kooser: The first two lines of this poem pose a question many of us may have thought about: how does snow make silence even more silent? And notice Robert Haight’s deft use of color, only those few flecks of red, and the rest of the poem pure white. And silent, so silent. Haight lives in Michigan, where people know about snow.

How Is It That the Snow

How is it that the snow

amplifies the silence,

slathers the black bark on limbs,

heaps along the brush rows?

Some deer have stood on their hind legs

to pull the berries down.

Now they are ghosts along the path,

snow flecked with red wine stains.

This silence in the timbers.

A woodpecker on one of the trees

taps out its story,

stopping now and then in the lapse

of one white moment into another.

American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2002 by Robert Haight from his most recent book of poetry, “Emergences and Spinner Falls,” New Issues Poetry and Prose, 2002. Reprinted by permission of Robert Haight. Introduction copyright © 2008 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction’s author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.