Alone with a waterfall

Alone with a waterfall

I sit in the cool grey morning at the base of waterfall. We are embraced by the forest’s soft canopy, the waterfall and I. It’s just us and the sulphurous smell of decaying plant matter, the raucous shouts of crows in the woods, and the faint twittering of a warbler in the overstory.

The waterfall is tall, 125 feet high, with rivulets pouring down lopsided stone slabs. It’s as if the earth itself is endlessly moved to tears by its own beauty.

Look at all the oxygen mixing into the water as it pummels against the rocks! I know I can’t actually see it, but I am aware that it’s happening. I observe small slivers of fish darting around the pool at the base of the falls and I know that this oxygen is entering their tiny gills, propelling them forward through their journey in life. Best of luck to you, my little friends!

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