After Years

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 in the great open dome

of my heart with no one to tell.