by Ted Kooser
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.
---------------------------------------
This reminded me of something I posted last year. I wonder, if you've spent a decade or two (or more) with a partner, do you forget what this feels like? Or do you remember, and appreciate the flood of gratitude at having found someone?
Ted Kooser is one of the nation’s most highly regarded poets and served as the United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004 - 2006. During his second term he won the Pulitzer Prize for his book of poems, Delights & Shadows (Copper Canyon Press, 2004).
Friday, January 29, 2010
After Years
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1 comment:
I don't know about oak trees falling but after 24 plus years,
I still like to see my husband's truck pull down the drive and am always glad he's home. Now with MM in the picture, I can't even imagine what life would be like without him
and know what my old neighbor meant when she lost her hubby and told me that she would have rather gone first than be the one left behind. In my case, I feel like we
are so much a part of each other
and I have never been content with
just my own company for too long.
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