THE WATERFALL
Humble in its origin
on the heather moor
rolling gently down towards
the valley’s deep green floor
Suddenly the land gives way
beneath its watery tread
and leads it down the rocky face
towards the river bed
Down the limestone outcrop
over mossy stones
beside the yellowing bracken
it bubbles sighs and moans
Until at last its downward race
is given a pause for rest
before it has to carry on
with renewed force and zest.
Photo by Torsten Dettlaff on Pexels.com
When Green Hill led to Highcliff Nab
Up from Kemplah Fields,
Then when all my world was young
And all was meant to be,
Life was enriched by Nature’s call;
The world was one to me.
Now, when old age has taken youth
And life resolves in retrospection,
Those childhood days become intense,
The fount of my reflection.
I feel, I touch, the close-knit turf
That dressed the hills I trod.
The waves of bracken still haunt my mind
As if bespoke of God,
And heather, clothing moor and dale,
Purpling the timeless scene,
Rekindles every hope I have
Been granted in the life I’ve seen.
Canonteign Falls, Dartmoor, Devon . . . Pen & Wash by WHB
Humble in its origins
on the heather moor
rolling gently down towards
the valley’s deep green floor
Suddenly the land gives way
beneath its watery tread
and leads it down the rocky face
towards the river bed
Down the limestone outcrop
over mossy stones
beside the yellowing bracken
it bubbles sighs and moans
Until at last its downward race
is given a pause for rest
before it has to carry on
with renewed force and zest.
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