Barely able to control my speed
I don’t mean to drown those who are foolish enough to climb me,
Or scream endlessly into the night when the tides are high.
When the weather is good,
A waterfall trickles with delight to see the salmon below, and the bears that catch them.
But when the fishermen come,
My torrents of water splash down with frustration,
The salmon are near gone from the mouth of the river.
And that is when a waterfall is angry.
When you can be a waterfall,
With deep blue waves fringed in the softest of white foam
And my curiosity cannot be snuffed out
For a waterfall can see much from it’s great height,
And what a waterfall sees is spectacular:
One cannot live at the mouth of a river without being seen by me,
