At Montmorency Falls
air
cooling
like a drink with
a single ice cube
like a stalk of lavender
bathed in
the bitter wind
its vegetable mind
suddenly
remembering winter
stony cliffs
stand upright
precipitous
steep
layers of earth
of rock
waters at the rocky edge
slide toward the brink
and pause
and plunge
over
and over
in a deluge of
liquid voices
as the flood
rushes over
the rocky wall
plummeting downward
white with bubbles
iron of the earth
glowing through the waters
yellow strands among the white
braided in the rushing waters
citrine
my soul’s depths
flooded in amber
drenched in the roar
of rushing water
the gushing water
plunges into
the St. Lawrence River
and becomes a fog
a cloud
a mist
I am the mist
Copyright © Diane Woodward Dorff | Year Posted 2017
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