I do not ask for youth, nor for delay
in the rising of time’s irreversible river

that takes the jewelled arc of the waterfall
in which I glimpse, minute by glinting minute,

all that I have and all I am always losing
as sunlight lights each drop fast, fast falling.

I do not dream that you, young again,
Might come to me darkly in love’s green darkness
Where the dust of the bracken spices the air
Moss, crushed, gives out an astringent sweetness
and water holds our reflections
motionless, as if for ever.

....remembering that water,
however luminous and grand, falls fast
and only once to the dark pool below.

These photos were in need of a poem and today I found it in Lauris Edmond’s “waterfall”. Just recently my enthusiasm for photography has reached a stagnant pool but with a 2 week break away I’m hoping to find the source again.

Sunday Sayings: A pick from the poets, writers or scriptures