Deep cliff shadows engulf the canyon.
Softened sunlight fades.
Darkness comes quick.
After a windy evening storm
I push my feet in wet sand
and listen to storm-provoked waves
of Lake Powell crashing in the darkness
Bats chase moths around the kerosene lamp.
An owl hoots from Cottonwood skeletons.
I’m 50 miles from any town
trapped in Glen Canyon’s heart.
The only way out is a boat.
I feel the restless
waters of the Colorado River
wanting to burst.
The lake whispers!