Welcome back to the Daily Poem here on the Close Reeds Podcast Network. I'm David Kier.

Today's poem is by Carolyn Kaiser, American poet who lived from 1925 to 2014. She won the Pulitzer Prize in 1985.

The poem that I'm going to read today is called Parents Pantum. It's for Maxine Kuhin.

I'll read it and then I'll say something about the Pantum and then offer some comments and then

read it again. Where did these enormous children come from? more ladylike than we have ever been?

Some of ours look older than we feel.

How did they appear in their long dresses more ladylike than we have ever been?

But they moan about their aging more than we do in their fragile heels and long black dresses.

They say they admire our youthful spontaneity. They moan about their aging more than we do, a somber group. Why don't

they brighten up? Though they say they admire our youthful spontaneity, they beg us to be dignified

like them as they ignore our pleas to brighten them.

Someday, perhaps, we'll capture their attention.

Then we won't try to be dignified like them, nor they to be so gently patronizing.

Someday, perhaps, will capture their attention.

Don't they know that we're supposed to be the stars?

Instead, they are so gently patronizing.

It makes us feel like children.

Second, childish?

Perhaps we're too accustomed to be stars,

the famous flowers glowing in the garden.

So now we pout like children.

Second childish.

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