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...
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