Camping in Glen Canyon

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!

Comments

  1. Robert Cowishaw says:

    Your best writing yet. I like its simplicity and newness. Keep up the good work.

    Love Dad

  2. I absolutely love this poem, Nate. Excellently written. It reminds me of the time I went kayaking down the San Juan River in UT with some biologests last summer. I fondly remember the bats swirly recklessly in the sky right around dusk.

  3. Hey Carmen – Thanks for the comment. I was on Lake Powell last August, and I remember the bats! And there was nothing more spectacular than a dark thunderstom over Glen Canyon, with a powerful wind tearing apart the seams of the tent. Amazing!

  4. Hello! I’ve been reading your website for some time now and finally got the bravery to go ahead and give you a shout out from New Caney Tx! Just wanted to say keep up the good work!

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