How old are you, ancient rocks?
How many millions of years have you stood
Shaping the contours of the Falls?
What great force heaved you into position
To stand guard and witness the march of nature?
Where did you come from? How did you get here?
Faces of varying tones and hues
Have gazed upon you.
How many lovers pledged themselves
Under your watery bridal veil?
How many Indian maidens leaped to their stony death,
A broken heart, a broken body?
I watch you from below,
Water cascading over your moss-slippery rocks
Your music softens my heart,
But not my mind.
I want to know all your secrets, even if I have to
Struggle, boulder by boulder, to reach the summit.
Will you tell me everything?
© By Nancy (firstname.lastname@example.org)