Africa, Poetry and Love

I Heard The Waterfalls Sing

I heard the garrulous waterfalls sing once,
Drowning the noise of the forest in its wake
She cascades down, drawing curtains of white waters,
Pitching shadows behind the rocks that let it form

I have seen the streams divide into two or three files,
Each guarding its way through shiny stones and rocks,
Creating a pool for weary crabs, eel and yappy toads,
And throwing a queer festivity for bystanders

Heard or seen, these plunging waters rush in haste
Off to bless docks with some runny benevolence


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