"Animals are hushed.
Birds fly but don't sing
yet a white turtle plays on the pool's sand floor under riotous spray,
sliding about with the torrents."
    – Wang Wei, from "A White Turtle Under a Waterfall"




Booth Falls


There is one rock glistening from the cliff above.
We cannot tell if it is wet
or just capturing the mid-day sun like the side of a diamond.
Here we are zig zagging
along the alpine layers of aspen and Douglas,
the trail a smoldering smell of aging pine needles,
but alongside the trail,
down the cut the roaring snowmelt of Booth Falls.
It sucks into roaring nest all other sounds.
We become aware of the cliffs.
We might picture the wild courage
of the forest bear or mountain lion
stretching down to the rocky bank after a sleep for a sip.
We look away wanting to know only so much.