Introduction by Ted Kooser: Descriptive poetry depends for its effects in part upon the vividness of details. Here the Virginia poet, Claudia Emerson, describes the type of old building all of us have seen but may not have stopped to look at carefully. And thoughtfully.

Stable

One rusty horseshoe hangs on a nail

above the door, still losing its luck,

and a work-collar swings, an empty

old noose. The silence waits, wild to be

broken by hoofbeat and heavy

harness slap, will founder but remain;

while, outside, above the stable,

eight, nine, now ten buzzards swing low

in lazy loops, a loose black warp

of patience, bearing the blank sky

like a pall of wind on mourning

wings. But the bones of this place are

long picked clean. Only the hayrake's

ribs still rise from the rampant grasses.

Poem copyright © 1997 by Claudia Emerson Andrews, a 2005 Witter Bynner Fellow of the Library of Congress. Reprinted from “Pharoah, Pharoah,” (1997) by permission of the author, whose newest book, “Late Wife,” will appear this fall; both collections are published by Louisiana State University’s Southern Messenger Poets. This weekly column is supported by The Poetry Foundation, The Library of Congress and the Department of English at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln. The column does not accept unsolicited poetry.

Tell me something. When was the last time you made a list of fun things to do…and actually did them? Don’t look now, but it’s already June (how?!)—the Friday night of summer, as Laura Vanderkam says. Now’s your chance. Time to plan some simple pleasures and everyday adventures to make the hot, sweaty months pass more happily. I did this last year (click here to read 2015’s list), with mixed success. Take Tank to the beach? Check. Go to a Rays game? Yup. Make frozen pops, spend a day by the pool, or watch the sunset at the beach?

Nope.

Lucky for me, I get a do-over. Summer has already barged its way into central Florida (complete with a tropical storm, thank you very much), so I’m trying again. Here’s my list for the summer of 2016:

Sure, I’ll be working on my writing business, painting my bathroom, cleaning out the fridge…but I’m also planning some serious fun. I hope you will, too.

What’s on your bucket list this summer?

“‘Kindness’ covers all of my political beliefs. No need to spell them out. I believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn’t always know this and am happy I lived long enough
to find it out.”

—Roger Ebert

At first, I was going to title this post “Happy Little Things: Harvest,” and write about the simple pleasure of gardening. But as I put words on paper, my thoughts took me in an entirely different direction.

This week’s “harvest” from my garden, if you can call it that, was three yellow pear tomatoes and two stunted carrots. So much effort for so little result, yet still, I keep at it. Kinda reminds me of my writing career (if you can call it that). I’m putting a lot of effort into it, but I’m not harvesting much in the way of finished pieces or paying clients, and I’m frustrated. But I also know that you cannot always be harvesting. Just as in gardening, in writing, in other creative endeavors—even in life itself, there must be times of planting, feeding, nurturing, even lying fallow.

While I desperately want and need to produce fruit, I can’t discount my need for the nourishment of instruction, time to allow ideas to sprout and grow in my head, and time to simply do nothing. I’ve seen the effects of neglect on my garden—nearly my entire crop of winter lettuce grew without thinning, watering and weeding, with predictably inedible results.

In my garden, I’m in the groove now, checking it every day, watering, weeding, and feeding as needed. I’ve got tons of lemons on my Meyer lemon tree, plenty of blossoms and green tomatoes still on my plants, and a few more carrots that might have a chance to grow into something edible. I have green onions and herbs ready when I need them. I’m also working on tending my creativity with the same attention and care. I believe if I keep putting in the time and effort, the harvest will come. And when it does, it will taste all the sweeter for the effort I’ve put in.

Introduction by Ted Kooser: I’ve always been fascinated by miniatures of all kinds, the little glass animals I played with as a boy, electric trains, dollhouses, and I think it’s because I can feel that I’m in complete control. Everything is right in its place, and I’m the one who put it there. Here’s a poem by Kay Mullen, who lives in Washington, about the art of bonsai.

Bonsai at the Potter’s Stall

Under fluorescent light,

aligned on a bench

and table top, oranges

the size of marbles dangle

from trees with glossy

leaves. White trumpets

bloom in tiny clay pots.

Under a firethorn’s twisted

limbs, a three inch monk

holds a cup from which

he appears to drink

the interior life. The potter

prizes his bonsai children

who will never grow up,

never leave home.

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 ©2006 by Kay Mullen, and reprinted from her most recent book of poetry, “A Long Remembering: Return to Vietnam,” FootHills Publishing, 2006, by permission of Kay Mullen and the publisher. Introduction copyright ©2011 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.