1.

Too long we have pretended to surpass
the innocence of trees with our mute,
cardboard faces.

Tomorrow it will be different.

2.
The long, flowing rope stares down from the waterfall,
startling you. So much descent to resist, yet
when your eyes follow the liquid-beaten strings to its end,
there sits a seat. The surrounding water floats you
surprising courage, and you saddle up with knuckles white
as foam. As you ride the five seconds of forward momentum
you feel only the swoosh of time until the ubiquitous sound
of splashing culminates into an enormous wet slap
against your invigorated face.

The five seconds back feels more weightless than space.

3.
A symphony of congratulatory hands attempt to orchestrate
in the forest light just what you saw rushing down
into the white mist of that waterfall.

In the lengthening minutes
you overflow with muffling sounds
and images of water.

(hush, hush, hush,)

You stumble at describing
purity and reconnection.


(hush, hush, hush,)

4.
How the recovered familiarity
of that mountain of mobile water
unstole your heart,
and cleansed your hidden brutaility
with each step over forest floor
and jagged rock.

(hush, hush, hush,)

On the path leading away
from the waterdrop forest
you launch a quivering wish into the undergrowth:
may this one ecosystem be forever spared
from the subtly spiteful tendons
of the wayward human hand.

02/08/2006

Posted on 02/08/2006
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