Waking to the Comet

You were beside me.
You were the mountain
blocking half
a sky full of stars.

I was small
in the depth of your shadow,
watching black water
and glittering boats.

Everyone sat
on blankets on grass,
drinking and eating,
talking and waiting.

I played, then slept,
until your hand stirred me.
I woke among strangers
all staring up.

High overhead,
faint, among whispers,
floated a figure
with long glowing hair.

You called it by name.
Everyone watched it.
I watched you and mother,
the way your cheeks shone.

Once in a lifetime, you said,
soft as breathing,
speaking to no one.
I loved you both then.

I saw mother, crying,
the way her hand glowed
through darkness toward
the ghost of your hand.

Now I am grown.
You've gone to earth.
I have my own child,
and the comet we saw

is just starting back
from a distance much deeper
than I could have guessed
as a boy in the gathering dew.

William Pitt Root