The chance of seeing a solar eclipse always seems to draw me up the mountain – up what we called Iron Mountain Road, the Mormon Emigrant Trail. What I saw on Saturday:
Vision
I drove upcountry – mustn’t miss the moment
when Moon and Sun come together, brief as a kiss.
I stopped in the burn-scar, sky bereft of trees.
Storm clouds interposed between living
earthlings and the heavenly tryst.
Remember six years ago. Blind, you’d lost your license.
I drove us up this long, climbing ridge for the eclipse.
You could only see a dimming of the living day;
I stepped on crescents of light soft as pine-needles,
my shadow transparent as ghost.
Today, I had to guess Moon and Sun coming together
above clouds – dark clouds moving across great wide sky,
skeleton ridges on all sides here on earth.
At last, the briefest opening, a blink, blue eye
rimmed with sliver of bright. Was it you?
~ Taylor Graham
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