After Years

After Years

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.

After Years discusses the relative unimportance of time. This poem seems to portray the notion that time is in fact fleeting and somewhat lacking. The passage of time is expressed through the “glittering face of a glacier” sliding “into the sea,” as well as the “ancient oak” that held “only a handful of leaves.” And yet, these events seem rather trivial – they only demonstrate the natural progression of time. An old woman briefly looks up, and this tiny event is juxtaposed with the supernova on the other side of the universe. A gigantic “star thirty-five times the size of our own sun” explodes but leaves a minute trace behind. The only evidence we witness is a “small green spot,” and the astronomer who witnesses this event cannot even communicate the excitement to another being. Thus, with the juxtaposition of imagery, Kooser describes the insignificance of two extremes – small and large events alike.