Tracy Press

Ted Kooser, U.S. poet laureate from 2004 to 2006, introduces his weekly selection, "Part of a Legacy."

Putting bed pillows onto the grass to freshen, it’s a pretty humble subject for a poem, but look how Kentucky poet Frank Steele deftly uses a sun-warmed pillow to bring back the comfort and security of childhood.

Part of a Legacy

I take pillows outdoors to sun them
as my mother did. "Keeps bedding fresh,"
she said. It was April then, too —
buttercups fluffing their frail sails,
one striped bee humming grudges, a crinkle
of jonquils. Weeds reclaimed bare ground.
All of these leaked somehow
into the pillows, looking odd where they
simmered all day, the size of hams, out of place
on grass. And at night I could feel
some part of my mother still with me
in the warmth of my face as I dreamed
baseball and honeysuckle, sleeping
on sunlight.

• American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. Copyright 2000 by Frank Steele, whose most recent book of poetry is “Singing into That Fresh Light,” co-authored with Peggy Steele, ed. Robert Bly, Blue Sofa Press, 2001.

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