POETRY

Our Paths

Silver Falls, Coos Bay, Oregon

by Kristen Storer

At first, the path is laid before us--
Wide,
Even.
Sounds of the stream below us
Rough sword ferns and soft mosses
Beckoning us
To slow our progress.

Sunlight peeks through the trees
Lighting our way.
A fleeting glimpse of the waterfall,
Our goal.
Its grandeur increases
The closer we inch.

The path becomes difficult now.
We progress--
One by one--
Over steep, slippery mud and rocks,
Ancient roots reaching out to trip us.

We are here.
We have reached the magnificent falls.
We are under its canopy of liquid splendor,
Droplets dance and sparkle in the sunlight
Forming shimmering rainbows.

We take turns braving the shower
Laughing at ourselves,
Finding pools in the rock crevices--
Their own worlds in such a tiny space.
Marveling at the beauty of nature.

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