Este poema do Ted Kooser
Flying At Night
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.
Lembra-me esta história da Laurie Anderson, que fazia parte do seu espetáculo "The Nerve Bible" e está no álbum "The Ugly One With Jewels"
The Night Flight From Houston
It was the night flight from Houston. Almost perfect visibility. You could see the lights from all the little Texas towns far below. And I was sitting next to a fifty-year old woman who had never been on a plane before. And her son had sent her a ticket and said:
— Mom, you've raised ten kids; it's time you got on a plane.
And she was sitting in a window seat staring out and she kept talking about the Big Dipper and that Little Dipper and pointing; and suddenly I realized that she thought we were in outer space looking down at the stars. And I said:
— You know, I think those lights down there are the lights from little towns.