In the Dark

This may be a bit premature, but it’s certainly apt as I’m just about to head off to the airport and hopefully will be airborne this evening. I expect to be online again tomorrow, after I reach my destination…

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.

by Ted Kooser (b. 1939)

This entry was posted on April 2, 2012 at 12:49 pm and is filed under Poetry with tags Flying at Night, Poetry, Ted Kooser. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.