We are standing beside the falls
and our daughter is clattering through the chattering stones
and the leaves are bronze gold or gone
and the seal is in the river and the river is beneath
the gently toppling terraced falls
The seal is turning
to observe
my wife and me at our young late age
turning and turning to watch as we hear
the mossy gurgle and the ferns that whistle
the drowsy bees the phantom birdsong branches popping
footfalls of the meaningless though welcome guests
the horses clopping across the stone span above the falls
the horse dung flopping from their ancient tails
the turf fire burning in the bar behind us as we sit
at a table on clean flagstones drinking just water
Another rain has come and gone
Our bedroom is lighted above and waiting
A study inside is lined with books and a fire in there too
It is morning noon and evening of our only day
and the seal is still watching us from the river beneath the falls
and our daughter is still clattering through the chattering stones calling
her secret names for us