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.

My favourite Ted Kooser poem is already on Minstrels [Poem #1667]. Here’s another nice poem:

A galaxy dies.. Not with a bang, and not with a whimper.. but like a snowflake falling on water. And far away, a nameless shepherd, feeling the sudden nip in the air, snaps on his porch light - bringing all that is precious into the warmth of his care.

There’s something very comforting about that yard light. It reminds me of hot chocolate fondue.. and Christmas at home. And doesn’t the image of death as a snowflake falling on water sound more hopeful, and meaningful, than the usual “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust” ?

— Sarah Korah