as a 400 foot
waterfall over
smooth as
skin gray
granite cliffs--
pummels
carresses,
sings and
screams
all the way
down,
the torrent crashes
like summer lightning
might spear a lone
Douglas fir
or how a mob
of wild horses
resounds, hoofs
pounding across
dusty earth
and the ultimate,
long awaited for,
splash ---
slices clean and deep
into one freezing
pool, while the
softest mist coolly
kisses our sunburnt
hikers' cheeks,
can you feel
the muse's
liquid
whispers
now?
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