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By The Waters Edge I I was walking through the cascades, Not the place, but where the water flows. The water was running over the rocks, And where ever else it goes. I love to hear the majestic roar, As it thunders over the dale. I watch as it strikes the shore, Rebounding to make a gale. The tributaries and tiny streams, To the awesome waterfall. Some were quite torrential, While others slowed to a crawl. Up to the heavens and through the mist, The gorgeous beauty amazing. The clouded whispers of the fog, From the sun that was blazing. The water seeping through the rocks, Looking for an exit. Came to rest in a pool, Nothing short of exquisite. The deepest blue and the whitest white, The waterfall in its splendor. Spitting its gravel from stone, Like a street corner vendor. The pool it rippled as the water fell, Tides calmer at the edges. But turbulent at the center, Where it fell from atop the ledges. Around the pool in quiet surround, Among the mossy stones. Floated things to build its silt, Among them were some bones. The moss of blue, gray, and green, Softened the waters shore. Where rainbows danced in the haze, Who could want for more. I did not venture further, This splendor I beheld. Watching the falling water, And the ripples cast their spell. I sat as my eyes drank the mysteries, How this could come to be. And knowing far away from here, It was mixing with the sea. But now the sun was setting, The light was getting dim. So I prepared my campsite, And gathered up some limbs. When I was finished I looked again, As shadows hid from moonlight. The iridescent, darkened shades, Glimmered in the night. I knew on the morrow, Another journey would take. I�ll let you follow along and see, As soon as I awake. I drifted off I know not when, For the sounds had lulled my mind. My rested body and now my soul, No better place I�d find. The Masked Writer<o.-> <-.-> (C) 2001 T Lovett |
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