I was working on this poem on the computer when my daughter said: “Look, the waterfall we went to is on the telly.” It’s not somewhere you would usually see on TV, so it was quite a coincidence. I think it was a show about walking trails in rural Ireland
At Eas a’Ranca on a Summer Evening
Water thunders down
hundreds of feet
of frothing white
through jagged cleft
of timeworn rock.
In a quiet corner
where the ripples go
silence reigns,
the boisterous waterfall
a fading backdrop.
Past the daisies
and unfurled ferns
a lapping stream
leaves the pool
while a silver trout
leaps.
©Siobhán McNamara
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