The International Space Station

August 28, 2013, evening.

Well before the war destroyed the earth,

The phone rang: a friend gave the time

Of the great space station’s passing: seven fifty-eght p.m.

It was to travel from west to east. 

And travel  it did,

At 45 degrees on the western horizon,

A bit of light moving at the pace of slow thinking,

Accepting the sun’s light,

Passing it on to all who would see,

Moving across the clear and cooling evening sky

Moving a little to the right of Venus,

Moving  with grace and purpose

Across the absolutely clear early evening sky. 

International,

Nations at close quarters within that speck of light.

International,

A drama, an attempt of the quarreling nations on earth

To act out civility.

--August 29, 2013