Waterfall

Cascading emerald green,
emptying into a pool of dreams.
Rhythmic ripples shadow dances,
down its winding flowing brook.

Sparkling sunrays through the leaves,
spotlights probing for nature’s gift.
Searching the forest floor in vain,
as clumps of columbine bows in shame.

Gentle winds pass overhead,
sway the yellow birch into dance.
Back and forth with whispering sound,
telling of history old and gray.

Cumulus sailing the endless sea,
in desperate hope of discovery, and home.
Changing character with each current,
climbing aloft until blocked by the altostratus door.

Singing songs of drunken sailors,
winged brethren laugh in strict harmony.
Small to great they perch and dance,
busy with existence below the living canopy.

A paradise lost and again gained,
sweeping along as the day ages.
Repeating the cycle of continued renewal,
while we gaze at its unmatchable wonder.

by Gary Scott Gebert

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