March 6, 2018
Sun filters through the trees, boasting moss-covered branches in the delicate light rays
Water rushes down black, basalt domes; droplets bounce into the air, feeding drooping ferns
Day and night, week after month, water carves the basalt, an ever-changing masterpiece
Water will continue to flow, caress, ebb whether I witness it or not.
Air is wet, yet fresh and chilled in the morning’s shadow
Tree-tops pierce the blindingly blue sky, more majestic than any skyscraper could hope to be
Water. Water. Water. Bathing the forest, my soul in it’s soothing sounds.