There's something about a waterfall...something about the mist, the sound, the spray, that deep-throated thunder that reverberates through everything...it's just intoxicating! Waterfalls are probably one of my favorite places on earth. I like to swim until I'm underneath, and climb the rock walls, and let the surf pound down around my ears...until it's all I can hear...and the white becomes my world. There's no more romantic spot in the world...at least to me. And I mean that in the sense of Anne of Green Gables. It's a romantic place to fantasize, whether you are with or without someone...either way it is a drug for my senses.
This irrational love of water, especially fast-moving water has existed in me for as long as I can remember--I've always been fascinated by it. Perhaps that's why when I searched inside of myself for words to express how I was feeling in my latest poem...it was all about waterfalls...
Myriad:
Mirror, Mirror, gleaming bright,
Upon the wall, upon the night,
Upon the drip of ringing drops
That scatter rainbows in the light.
The dripping drops of silver sound,
They levitate--above the ground--
Each hovers like a crystal ball,
Above the mist of waterfall.
They shiver like an angel's breath,
And coast in silent pirouette,
Then drop on hawk's wings--striking true--
To settle on my face like dew...
Each shining mote descends like glass,
And turns the rock into a mass,
of frothing, foaming revelry,
A world of rivulets an streams.
A silver pane of glass runs by,
Escaping from the the thund'rous sound,
Within the depths, a face stares out
And echoes back the thoughts I own.
The falls are peaceful in the night,
A note of thunder in my mind.
I sit, I write, I sing along,
And silently: I watch the fog...
~Dan Midgett 7/1/10 12:10 AM
