Whiteman's Gull

Whiteman's Gull

In the depths of Whiteman's Gull
the air is moist and cool.
There is a quiet gentle peace,
reflections in a pool.

My watch is reading half past one
adventure lies ahead,
about a mile to the north
is where the journey led.

Enveloped by the dampest mist
on a sticky summer day,
to feel nature's coolest breath
is why I came this way.

Sun-drenched rainbows in the spray,
enticing to the eye,
high above a sliver of
the bluest summer sky.

Up ahead's a waterfall,
such beauty with such force,
cascading waters plummet down
predestined on a course.

Droplets tumble from the ledge,
tears that nature cries;
falling, falling from the edge,
before my very eyes.

Who is this image staring up,
reflected in a pool?
All the clocks are running down,
in youth and time;
there lies the duel.

© Copyright 2007 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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