June 15, 2011

For Aunt Eileen
















Above us, stars. Beneath us, constellations.
Five billion miles away, a galaxy dies
like a snowflake falling on water. Below us,
some farmer, feeling the chill of that distant death,
snaps on his yard light, drawing his sheds and barn
back into the little system of his care.
All night, the cities, like shimmering novas,
tug with bright streets at lonely lights like his.

-Ted Kooser, Flying at Night.

3 comments:

Bill said...

Thank you Susan, that was very sweet of you. Bill

WOL said...

Wow! I mean, WOW! The imagery of that poem is like having one of those starburst fireworks go off in your mind.

Susan said...

I love Ted Kooser.