We imagine them
flitting
cheek to jowl,
these driftrocks
of cosmic ash
thousandfold afloat
between Jupiter and Mars.
Frigga,
Fanny,
Adelheid
Lacrimosa.
Names to conjure with,
Dakotan black hills,
A light-opera
Staged on a barrier reef.
And swarm they may have,
Crumbly as blue-cheese,
That ur-moment
when the solar system
broke wind.
But now
they lumber
so wide apart
from each
to its neighbor’s
pinprick-glow
slant millions
and millions
of watertight miles.
Only in the longest view
do they gaze
like one herd
on a breathless tundra.
- Diane Ackerman,
The Planets (New York, Morrow, 1976)
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