The Falls

The crush of rock puffs its chest
through the mist vapors
while white pines and poplars point
to an amber thread
of water being pulled by
gravity unleashed

The dull roar of the water
over the limestone
orchestrated like sirens
calling to Homer
with my mind's eye wide open
I could sleep for days

With the mist hiding my tears
I will meditate
listening to the water
in serenity
carving the rock with my brain
as it puffs its chest.