The strumming of the running stream,
jumped and blundered, sloshing over
rocks and boulders in its way, til toppling
lavishly, like lovers flinging caution
—————————
to a wrestling wind, it waits and then
as an angel it falls, slowing motion,
creating rainbows, raindrops, rushing,
thundering as it collapses and crashes
——————-
into a waiting pool playing the music
of lost souls as it leaps in the air again,
squeezing by the next sensuous space,
slamming and tumbling, as it ricochets
————————-
and sparkles in the silver shined spray,
it ever thrusting the water on and on,
til it sighs and slowly pools its passion,
to run deep and dark with desire.
