Coming around the corner
Winding down the path,
We could not see it beyond
The cushion of pine needles

Adding lilt to our footsteps nor peek
Through the burnt-out trunks
Of the redwoods reaching slowly
Imperceptibly sunwarm since the ages

Nor could we peek around the ferns,
Tall green teenagers competing with us
For air. Moist and dense as our shared earth,
Coming around the corner

Curling down the road
The wind carried the message
Our eyes could not believe
One silver veil of water falling

Like the hair of God’s own mother uncoiling
Her strands tickling the mossy rock
Spraying electricity until the mist wept
The pools below becoming filigree golden

Reflections of the self same sun
Redwoods long for before they swirl
Into the creek’s soft brown peace.