The Falls
by Tom King
I found them in a quiet place
Where no one ever goes.
Where you have to cut a path
If you have a mind to find them.
I lay down upon the bank
And listened for a while
To the symphony that God plays
Upon instruments designed by Him.
And in that solitude I saw
The winter ice returning
Down effervescent cataracts
A thousand miles to go,
Until at last some distant sea
Its arms spread welcoming
Will take the errant droplets and
Give them up again for snow.
© 2014
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