Waterfall

I was listening to Jimi Hendrix's "May This Be Love" with its jittery drum pattern and hesitations, and this came as a result. Probably not quite finished, not sure.

Waterfall

Whatever else it is it is also this: a chance alignment of water and light,

even as the rider and his pale horse are also only

someone going from here to there,

whatever else.

Something is happening with time: the trees turn to glass overnight

and bury themselves in leaves and loam, slowly

draining color from the world where

something is.

Coming before the field wall, we walk the brambled path despite

weathering piled on neglect; broken and buried stony

remains grow roots to remember  

coming before.

It was not all meant. Our ritual was accident, feet fumbling height

atop the wall, two of us repeating solemnly

farewell to otherness; was it a dare?

It was not.

Above all else the waterfall tumbles, suffers and makes right

the arc, a promise to every lost thing wholly

broken the rise of unbroken air

above all else.