Silver Creek Falls

A ghostly rainbow dancing in the mist;
A sheen between his eyes and the figure
Of his grandfather, standing at the top;

The old man no longer dares to descend
To walk behind the horse-tail waterfall
Where he first brought the boy (though boy no more);

The boy-no-more waves from behind the mist;
Sees the old man raise his arm in reply,
Seeming to urge him on, encourage him;

It has been many long years since the time
When Grandpa held his small hand on the path
And half-carried him on water-slick rocks;

The trail stretches out ahead forever,
Though sword fern and thimble-berry obscure
Anything farther than what is right here;

The path is slippery, he minds his feet,
Then remembers himself and looks back up;
Benediction given, Grandpa is gone;