The strumming of the running stream, 

jumped and blundered, sloshing over 

rocks and boulders in its way, til toppling

lavishly, like lovers flinging caution 

—————————

to a wrestling wind, it waits and then

as an angel it falls, slowing motion,

creating rainbows, raindrops, rushing,

thundering as it collapses and crashes

——————-

into a waiting pool playing the music

of lost souls as it leaps in the air again,

squeezing by the next sensuous space,

slamming and tumbling, as it ricochets

————————-

and sparkles in the silver shined spray,

it ever  thrusting the water on and on,

til it sighs and slowly pools its passion,

to run deep and dark with desire.