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