Great stone walls shut out stars
to the east and west, loom and close
as night deepens.  A breeze
stirs the willows.  River.
Dark sandstone seems to breathe.
A thin new moon struggles
over the brooding cliffs
and glitters, askew
in the brimming water.  Shadows lurk
in the cottonwoods. A night creature
slides into the clearing,
moves toward the river, seems to bend,
drink.  It blends into sighing night,
the haunted canyon,
its warm wind,
crescent moon, shadows,
deep-throated song of water.
-       David†Lee “Zion Narrows,”
from his collection So Quietly the Earth