Waterfalls (Falling)

the sun gathers shadows
between its elbows

take only the breeze
through your nostrils

follow a trail of needles
from the white Pine
flowing to the water’s edge
where light disappears into the lake

moose drink from the other side
hooves wrenched between broken shale
behind them
more Pine ride their backs

a campfire braids its scent with the echoes
of the waterfall

falling
falling from grace
falling to chase a hillside yonder
spilling onto a canvas ever-changing

spinning into a swirl of a whirlpool
drinking gallons as it flows for miles

falling
falls of Agamok
fall

carry your secrets in clinched fists
past the crickets in the long grass
whispers through the beaver cut
rhythms of conga drums beat within your chest
thumping
rolling
thumping

the constant tribal dance of the waterfall
pounding within you
around you
the circle is complete