Today, from a distance, I saw you walking away, and without a sound the glittering face of a glacier slid into the sea. An ancient oak fell in the Cumberlands, holding only a handful of leaves, and an old woman scattering corn to her chickens looked up for an instant. At the other side of the galaxy, a star thirty-five times the size of our own sun exploded and vanished, leaving a small green spot on the astronomer's retina as he stood on the great open dome of my heart with no one to tell.
Rights & Access
from Solo: A Journal of Poetry,
Premiere Issue, Spring 1996.
Copyright 1996 by Ted Kooser.
All rights reserved.
Reprinted by permission of Ted Kooser from Solo: A Journal of Poetry. Copyright 1996 by Ted Kooser. For further permissions information, contact Solo Press, 5146 Foothill Road, Carpinteria, CA 93013.
Ted Kooser (1939- ) served as Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004 to 2006. He is the author of twelve poetry collections, including Splitting an Order (Copper Canyon Press, 2014).