Welcome back to The Daily Poem. I'm David Kern, and today is Monday, June 22nd, 2020.

Today's poem is by one of my favorites. Ted Cooser, he was born in April of 1939, served as

Poet Laureate, Consultant, and Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004 to 2006. And if you've been

listening to this podcast for a while, you know that he is one of my favorites.

The poem that I'm going to read today is from his newest collection.

It's called Kindest Regards, New and Selected Poems.

It's wonderful, and you should get it wherever books are sold.

Get yourself a copy and spend a bunch of time with it,

because it's really worth the time.

This poem is called A Summer Afternoon with Clouds, and it goes like this.

Some of the lower clouds, traveling in groups of four or five, appear to be lost, and pace this way and that, dragging their carpet bags, their overcoats tattered, the cheap white lining spilling.

A few have stopped to ask directions of the wind, who is peevish, with too many to take care of

already. Meanwhile, the tallest clouds, who can see over the heads of the rest, have spotted their

families waiting for them where the luggage is piled on the far horizon and are drifting away, shoulder to shoulder,

the smaller clouds now sheepishly following.

But still, there's this sorely overworked wind stuck at his station for the rest of the day.

He dreams of having just one afternoon alone with not one cloud, with a few pleasant hours

to enjoy his collection.

His big stamp album spread open, showing the villages and fields.

One of the things that I love about Coosers, the way he takes things that we do all the time.

And he embeds them, he imbues them with this intense pathos.

So how often have any of us, maybe even sitting outside with our kids or on a long car driver,

...