Into Niagara’s abyss of blackness,
Into its cavernous chaos,
I saw birds wing.
Sweeping down
Through the mist
Of its mighty waters,
Undaunted by the roar,
Unmindful of the churning,
Of the terror of its power,
On sure pinions
And happy in flight
They dipped and soared and
Mounted, upward and upward.
Into the light
And the rainbow
Above them.
Whimsey
In spring my hemlock
Dances gayly in flounces
Of jade green lace.
In summer moonlight
When a soft wind stirs
She dances with a delicate sapling.
They sway and bend in the wind,
And bow to the trees encircling.
I hear the laughter of their leaves.
In autumn she dances
With beech leaves in her hair,
But in winter I have found her still,
Crouching under a blanket of snow.