Above Multnomah Falls

This warm winter makes the creek scream like spring.

I dip my hand in, as far in as my long sleeves let me

Smooth stones, slick, cold life, years in my hands.

My fragile blood beats, knows the water by heart.

 

It’s good to be wary of the speed of the current

where it licks up upon the shore, sure feet are never a given.

It can bite you, gently, or with unforgiving teeth.

Its noise covers all voices, who’ve come beyond the falls

 

I head for snow level, it’s high for this time of the year.

Pine needles dot its surface like a mild sprinkling of spice.

Towhees, ravens, and buntings call with haunting songs

An echo between their voices, moves with the forest, downhill.

 

There, below, near the river and I-84, the creek is a maiden jumping.

Thousands of selfies, one tripod, a few point and shoots

attempt to catch her in the act of hitting the ground.

She refuses to pose.

 

 

 

 

 

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20 Comments on “Above Multnomah Falls

  1. Trees might fall and land slide, unperturbed she doesn’t stop… Rivers, creeks, flowing water have such a life of their own, I can only witness and admire. I love how your words and photograph capture all this for me.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh wow! I was right there! “… years in my hand” – love it! I often touch rocks and trees for their presence there, long before mine.

    Liked by 1 person

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