|Photo courtesy Malgorzata Replinska|
I have always enjoyed poems that celebrate the small pleasures of life. Here Max Mendelsohn, age 12, of
, tells us of the joy he finds
in playing with marbles. [Introduction by Ted Kooser.] Weston,
Ode to Marbles
I love the sound of marbles
scattered on the worn wooden floor,
like children running away in a game of hide-and-seek.
I love the sight of white marbles,
green marbles, black,
new marbles, old marbles,
with glass-ribboned swirls,
dancing round and round.
I love the feel of marbles,
rolling freely in my palm,
like smooth-sided stars
that light up the worn world.