Fall in City Creek Canyon

Although the slice of moon is fiercely bright
at 5 a.m., the canyon’s fiercely dark.
I’ve run beyond the artificial light,
and passed between the gates behind the park.
The cool, dry air falls gently on the stream
which, in its turn, falls gently through the trees.
The moonlight shadows falling like a dream
upon the road where newly fallen leaves
lie still are only echoes of the fall,
the early fall.  My early morning run
anticipates the lateness of it all
before the early rising of the sun,
by this: a simple trip by which I’m found
with hands outstretched before the shadowed ground.

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