He leaped
From his old Ford Bronco
And found his footing
On the rock-strewn soil.
It was dark.
Not city dark, but country dark.
Dark that was only cut by the subtle illumination
of stars in the sunless sky.
At the top
Of the tallest hill on his land,
He surveyed
The surrounding Tallgrass Prairie.
I watched him set up the tripod.
“Look,
This one’s Venus,”
he said.
I slowly weaved
Through the scratchy clumps
Of sun-dried grasses,
Careful of where I placed
My flip-flopped feet.
He waited for me,
Patient and peaceful.
His eyes told me
I was the first
He’d brought here.
“See it?
It’s the big one.
Right there.”
One hand
Supported the telescope.
The other,
Index finger unfolded,
Pointed to a place
Forty degrees above parallel.
I stood at the scope.
The cool Kansas night wrapped
Around my bare legs
Then rustled his jeans
As he stood next to me.
Moving closer,
The scent of his skin
Surprised me.
It was warm.
It was good.
Then,
At the blackest hour,
I looked and I found it:
Light in the dark.
Beauty in an empty place.
Jen Moran, a recent graduate of Emporia State University’s Master’s of English program, lives in Emporia, Kansas with her husband, Jesse, and their daughter, Cordelia. In her spare time, she enjoys writing, painting, knitting, and reading. Her graduate thesis project culminated in a children’s book that focused on respecting nature.
The Coop: A Poetry Cooperative 