The Waterfall

I see it through the mountain mist, From craggy rock it springs its fall, Its spray of whiteness reaching out Cascading off a sandstone wall. A lyrebird is calling out Just heard above the constant sound, Of water galloping over rock And tumbling to the ground. A hairy vine with lichen near And green moss upon the stone, Stands near to where the water falls Into an aqueous zone. A rock pool captures what is spent, It spins and froths and bubbles, A platypus is feeding near Fossicking through the stony rubbles. Tree ferns surround this rocky pool, Their fronds umbrella like, The beautiful red of waratahs And grass trees with their spike. The rhythmic sound continues, A water pouring lullaby, The wetness of the wilderness From rocks so very high.