The roar, a constant thunder,
not of a storm passing,
but a presence, always.
Green water, a deceptive calm before the plunge.
A lip, vast and unforgiving,
relinquishing its hold.
Then the white fury,
a churning, frothing chaos,
swallowing light and sound.
Mist rises, a constant veil,
kissing skin, dampening air,
a rainbow promise
when the sun dares to break...
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