Fainter Falls
Fainter Falls,
down granite walls
by boulders strewn
on floor of gorge.
White water roars;
the chorus calls
in its own tune:
Stand still, attune.
Here a great tree
has fallen down,
dislodged by gush
and flash-flood stream,
or lingering lick
of freshet stray;
but boulders washed
by many years
are carved to music
water wears.
Tree-ferns crowd
at throat of drop,
roots in the run
soak up the glut;
but river shoots on
from step to rut;
each swashed ledge drop
adds voice to the loud
rhapsody of crowd.
Sunlight picks out, UHR
each falling droplet
on the highest cascades,
finding their bifurcating ways,
where boldest tree-ferns,
stand firm in that white blaze.
And algae endure
water's unceasing tumble
down the scumble;
while rocks immure
in their masquerades
music Time will fret -
nothing here yearning
for that future.
Through present bears
each chaotic droplet
each tentative tread:
the ants foraging
about our boots
and over gum leaves spread,
negotiate as one,
tree roots, boots, boulders
alone, yet set
in chemical cahoots.
Resting on stone-
flagged alcove seat,
after clambering here,
ascent complete,
mozzies whining in an ear
warn us to move on,
move on.
