Poetry Porch: Poetry

 

AT THE FALLS
by Chris Wallace-Crabbe

                Baroque, white, delicate,
                  The lacy water sprawls
          Across the waterfall,
           Abandoned to mere fate.


        Here with a sudden lunge
                  It strikes unyielding rock
               And artís cold passions mock
            That dizzy downward plunge.


            What is a waterfall
            But our tensions manifest?
              Deep in that rocky breast
                Who knows what echoes call?


Copyright © 2009 by Chris Wallace-Crabbe.