Cascading

It flows from its source in the highest peaks
and sometimes falls fast and other places
curves sensuously and slow as it seeks
a less resistant path to its deepest spaces.

The wind catches it in mists which will soar
back into the masses from which it came
and when it touches my body I shiver
for no two touches are ever the same.

When it catches the sun or the moonlight
it frames the landscape and brightens the air.
It smells better than rain on desert’s night,
the sweetness which is my beloved’s hair.

For no brook or stream ever impresses
me so much as my one true love’s tresses.

5-7-2015