Fallen Waters
(for B.)
Falling waters have a
twisted and accelerated life.
They swirl through gullies formed
by heavy rains and tear at their banks
carrying such thought and
dark desires with them
until they burst forth at the mouth like words.
It has a strange beauty
from a distance but
beneath these awesome falls we stand entranced
before such a power
which we cannot control, but we know
that we are made of the
same but still waters – till the thaw comes.
19 October 1989
We went on a car trip once up the Dalry Hills. I’d never been there before but it was, apparently, a spot B. and her mother loved and so we all piled in the car and off we headed. At Glen Burn there was a waterfall they wanted us to see. As I recall it was nowhere near as pretty as the one in the photo (the photographer must’ve caught it on a good day). The one we encountered was more of a dribble and about as far from “awesome” as you could imagine plus it was overcast which didn’t help. But I got to spend the day with B. and that was all that mattered.
