On intersecting with a cloud, the light
Above Montana bent, fanned out, dispersed
And met a sensor on a satellite
Which sent a startled warning that the worst
Had come. No rockets roared, no cities burned,
The schools stayed open, and no scorching flash
Lit the horizon. Slowly, seasons turned,
The vault of heaven unconcealed by ash.
That awful warning on a flickering screen
Demanded answers; Comrade Stanislav
Was reassigned from Serpukhov-15
While Ronald Reagan offered thanks to God.
Above a cornfield, glittering, endless rays
Spelled out the morning on the shortening days.
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