Quietly slip over the edge
Disappear without a trace.
Follow the old trails.
The canyon trails are worn smooth
by bare feet or reed sandals.
Centuries old hand-holds are still there.
Trails wind down to hidden pools.
Deep shade is cool below the canyon rim.
Hot sunlight is a stranger down here.
The breeze builds toward the afternoon
channeled up the walled canyon.
It’s cool among the willows.
A dove bathes in the shallow stream.
A hummingbird hovers for an instant
checking you out.
Time passes slowly down here but
centuries could skip by unobserved;
quietly slipping over the edge.
* * *
Enchanted, More or Less – 2017