On the stone peak of Yosemite
we sat at summer’s end,
mellowed light slanting right
through us, as though we were
motes of dust in rise and fall
and careless spin above
the book laid open
to the page that told
the story of its reading.
Through the fissured granite
ran the thinnest crack
in time, and I found my-
self on the other side
of things, unable to move
or speak, yet seeing how
the light was full of language
and knowing what would be,
I waited for your voice
to speak what I saw
and make me whole again.
John Savoie teaches great books at Southern Illinois University Edwardsville. His poems have appeared in Poetry, Best New Poets, and Poetry in Motion.
