to the river

open meadow land

bursts of color

yellow blue and red

to meet the sky above

billows of snow white clouds

drift above

they feel alive

fed by the warm sun

shining to us

close below

i walk to the alpine edge

in the distance

far away

like a green portal

leading home

past its invisible gates

i walk to its secret place

pollution noise

has not entered here

the plants are quiet

the birds and insects speak

in soft tones

i have entered

into a santuary

there are no prints

of human kind

but mine

erased

no broken branches

no bended bow of grass

no taint of scent

other than that of herb

no elixir exists

stronger than this

so able

to salve my soul

the waterfall has a soft voice

i am far below it’s height

along its river bank

upward slant

over rounded rocks and moss

i climb her steps

her voice emerges ever more

her force vibrates

wet forest turf

and hollow granite

under my tired feet

i am at her first footstool

here her voice is loudest

like thunder

plunging waters strike the rocks

deafens my hearing

cold sharp needles

of her roaring spray

strike my face

she cannot be subdued

melted snow

is her spirit

released

from pristine heights

she’s born

under her falls

i am baptized