Canyon Fall

On a hazy day in late upland spring,
I swam through clouds of noseeum bugs,
And balanced to walk on the razor's edge
of the rock wall that Canyon Falls hugs.

My old running shoes wiggled and wobbled,
They were teetering and to and fro.
To balance the extra baggage I bore,
On a frame only couches know.

The shifting stones made very little noise,
when they broke and separated.
I sensed no danger and shifted my weight,
To the foot whose redoubt had skated.

I felt myself go in motion so slow,
My legs shot out from under me.
I looked at the glistening rocks below,
Gritting my teeth for catastrophe.

Panic set in, then surprise and chagrin.
I uttered an animal sound.
I drifted, a leaf afloat on the wind,
Riding on drafts to the ground.

My drop was slow, as though falling through snow.
Until I lay on the river bank,
And though wet, I had no damage to show,
And the mystery of who I should thank.

I stood stock still on the slick river shore.
I pondered for a little time.
I wanted to thank someone, more and more,
As out I endeavored to climb.

To this day I still don't know who saved me,
Who slowed my fall through the air.
Though I'll never be sure who they might be,
I think that my Angel was there.

Mick McKellar
May 2025