Your roiling, rushing spill infuses all 

with tumbling clash, no silent shimmer, 

logan green floating along embedded rock. 

Sage marks its gold presence above and below 

this cacophonic ridge. How swift the waters slide 

into your white churn, how charged their ionic 

splash! Cautiously I amble past, behold the quick 

release to smoother idling trek, raucous passage 

cleared for a glad descent downstream. 

How muted the roar now, like memory resting

on a stoop. I recall the rapids of my own desert 

channel. Midstream, no funneled grace appears, 

no easy way out of cold and stinging spray.

One loses ground, stones underfoot

slick with hidden algae. The soul winces.

Somehow the furor dissipates, dizzying turmoil 

gives way to steadier beat, calmer pace, 

deeper knowing. Bounding whirlpools become

but gentle eddies, restoring balm. How I relish

this sloping tide, take in its quiet salve. 

Even quaking aspen rest after leaves fall. 

Praise the rapids for all the sudden commotion 

they stir to foam, and for the tuck of waves back 

down the moving, living path, breath flowing

as birdsong, clear and lilting, rises once more.

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© the author