St. Marys' Falls
Olive, beige, then white,
curling gently across the edge,
rippling sheets descend,
unsuspecting,
of the quick deflection below,
causing them to reveal their might.
Rocks jut in mid fall,
spraying jets outward,
as though pressure fed.
Eddies stretch and speed
towards that stranded crest
melting their resolve
of self absorbed chaos,
independent of the rest.
A gentle slope, near where I sit,
propels a thin cast layer
along it's length.
Thinning and accelerating in it's progress,
ripples to moguls, moguls to peaks,
then dance,
their off cast drops,
in excitement,
vibrated by the pleasure
of skimming across
the flesh of rocks.
Engorged by the rain,
this creeping mass is transformed
from placid flow,
through frothing torment,
and back,
all in a short space.
As I focus on the flow,
a small downstream pool attracts my notice.
Fins break the water surface,
then disappear beneath,
hinting at the reason
this all exists.
© Dave Lawson, 2000