He showed me the house. Some parts you can move--
Like the sliding glass doors. It was built for you,
It was built for everyone. Its windows
Overlook the avenue.
It’s bright and broad, it helps you be
Who you are, you are inspired
To stand in the living room and speak
Words that will be treasured and wired
To Timbuktu and set on golden
Plates for exoplanets, words
That are spoken here and heard there,
Carried on the wings of birds,
Carried through the undying roads
Of Nebraska in the twilight,
Where fields burst with seed, where smoke
Rises from a meteorite.
And the more we understand,
The more we know, the more we are
At home. I am just me, and smoke
Rises from a green cigar.
Yaacov David Shulman