Yesterday at the falls, the forest atmosphere was so complex, there was no way to know just how many individual scents had gone to make up the magical one we were breathing — the myriad births, lives, and deaths, the microscopic miracles wrought by sun, shade, light, and water. In the first moment, we were transformed; and, with the ripe fall earth deep in our lungs and warm in our blood, no other moment followed. We walked through mist light and heavy; bright-yellow maple leaves covered the trail; the ferns and moss were glistening with tiny jewels; and the falls themselves, recharged by the rain, were a hymn to love, and we were part of their roar. Three miles later we emerged nearly soaked to the skin. We were the falls. And the falls we remain.
October 23, 2019
Categories: New Poems & Pieces