On the Edge of Tomorrow

On the Edge of Tomorrow


I favor the smaller waterfalls
over the hundreds of feet drop,
thousands of gallons plunging
in a deafening roar type.

Give me gurgling streams
where eddies swirl
and leaf boats circle.
Let me find a foot of cascading water
still so clear
sparkling granite
peeks through, where
watercress dances along the shore
and dragonflies run bombing runs
to see their reflections.
A singing stream
where water seems to curve
amongst the rocks --counterpoint
to early evening tree frog chorus.
Shallow waters that invite toes
downstream, head on folded arms,
letting the cool wash over and around
cleansing souls and shoulders.

In crimson dappled light,
the sound calls
across the pine-needled carpet
where the tall, straight trunks stand sentinel
and there, at the edge of tomorrow,
I slake my thirst for more than water.