Good poems for hard times (1,2)

My sister Marilyn, the English professor, and BIL Stu, sent me a book of poetry, "Good Poems for Hard Times," selected and introduced by Garrison Keillor. The dedication:

"To the English teachers of America,
doing good work every day,
with admiration and affection
from an old student."

I've never been a lover of poetry, but I have been enjoying this selection, so much so, in fact, that I'm going to reproduce some in my blog, without permission. (What are they going to do to me?)

First two, one by Robert Bly, a Minnesota native, second by Raymond Carver, an Oregon native.

Driving to Town Late to Mail a Letter
Robert Bly

It is a cold and snowy night. The main street is deserted.
The only things moving are swirls of snow.
As I lift the mailbox door, I feel its cold iron.
There is a privacy I love in this snowy night.
Driving around, I will waste more time.

Happiness
Raymond Carver

So early it's still almost dark out.
I'm near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.
When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.
They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren't saying anything, these boys.
I think if they could, they would take
each other's arm.
It's early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.
They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.
Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn't enter into this.
Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.