Red Stilts

 

Seventy years ago I made a pair of stilts

from six-foot two-by-twos, with blocks

to stand on nailed a foot from the bottom.

 

If I was to learn to walk on stilts I wanted

them red and I had to wait almost forever

for the paint to dry, laid over the arms

 

of a saggy, ancient Adirondack chair

no longer good for much but holding hoes

and rakes and stakes rolled up in twine,

 

and at last I couldn’t wait a minute longer

and took the stilts into my hands and stepped

between them, stepped up and stepped out,

 

tilted far forward, clopping fast and away

down the walk, a foot above my neighborhood,

the summer in my hair, my new red stilts

 

stuck to my fingers, not knowing how far

I’d be able to get, and now, in what seems

just a few yards down the block, I’m there.

Ted Kooser, Red Stilts (Copper Canyon Press, 2020)