where foliage is barely pierced by sunlight.
Midday but the waterfall mist conspires
with the wind, the earth's walls, and the lush leaves,
in weaving cold mountain air around us.
I carry Maleeha against my chest --
right arm holds her, left arm precariously
props on the steel railing -- till finally,
that rumbling cascade pouring on cold spring:
Our last photo; I'm flying end of May.
* * *
Check out My Personal Anthology (12 Poems).
This blog is sponsored by Limitado