[A Birthday Poem by Ted Kooser]
"Just past dawn, the sun standswith its heavy red headin a black stanchion of trees,waiting for someone to comewith his bucketfor the foamy white light,and then a long day in the pasture.I too spend my days grazing,feasting on every green moment till darkness calls,and with the others I walk away into the night,swinging the little tin bellof my name."
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