Fay Slimm.

These Falls

 

These Falls.

 

Married to strength

these falls

in pouring from stone lip

of arrow-slick fury 

harry with wet 

any bystander 

in their cascading dive

to lower water.

 

Pounding from height

mist shawls

granite and rafters each

bush as birds 

disappear under split 

liquid in  

dry over-hung caverns

of covered glory.

 

Volumes of sound

breach ears

by cataract passage 

from precipitate action

to deep headlong

plunge and heave of 

of sudden collision

with met disturbance into 

mirror-still cauldron.

 

Confined the loud clamour 

of roar 

as silent rocks fastened

to splashed echoes

though static have an

unspoken language 

that has those who listen

breathlessly  awed.