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
PoetryPix 