Poem for a Tuesday — “Applesauce” by Ted Kooser

I liked how the starry blue lid

of that saucepan lifted and puffed,

then settled back on a thin

hotpad of steam, and the way

her kitchen filled with the warm,

wet breath of apples, as if all

the apples were talking at once,

as if they’d come cold and sour

from chores in the orchard,

and were trying to shoulder in

close to the fire. She was too busy

to put in her two cents’ worth

talking to apples. Squeezing

her dentures with wrinkly lips,

she had to jingle and stack

the bright brass coins of the lids

and thoughtfully count out

the red rubber rings, then hold

each jar, to see if it was clean,

to a window that looked out

through her back yard into Iowa.

And with every third or fourth jar

she wiped steam from her glasses,

using the hem of her apron,

printed with tiny red sailboats

that dipped along with leaf-green

banners snapping, under puffs

or pale applesauce clouds

scented with cinnamon and cloves,

the only boats under sail

for at least two thousand miles.

in Ted Kooser, Delights and Shadows, Port Townsend: Copper Canyon Press, 2004.

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Ted Kooser is a poet, editor, publisher, and winner of the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry. He depicts everyday images from rural life that serve as extended metaphors for the human condition. Kooser taught high school English before pursuing a career in insurance. He wrote for an hour and a half before work every morning. By the time he retired, he had published seven books of poetry. Poet Edward Hirsch once wrote, “There is a sense of quiet amazement at the core of all Kooser’s work.”

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