Beads
The beads zoom by swift as halo- gen lights hung above the highway tracing the broad curve of night, till one bead catches between fin- ger and thumb, smooth and faintly oiled with ten thousand touches, pausing then past, a balloon having slipped its string through the child’s baffled hand, lifted on wind and light, a dis- tant speck, gone; or spark, expan- sive, tickling through the whole wide sky, the blue so bright it shimmers gold.
--John Savoie
John Savoie’s poetry has won two Hopwood Awards at the University of Michigan, including a special award judged by Donald Hall. More recently, his poems have appeared in Poetry, Shenandoah, and Rock and Sling, and his first poetry collection, Open Book, is ready for a publisher. He teaches great books at Southern Illinois University—Edwardsville.
