There was a waterfall <br />Playing over purple flowers—drinking them, <br />Feeding them the apiary of <br />Sunlight, <br />Down from where they could not grow, <br />Distilling angels: <br />It was not the easiest thing to describe to <br />Anyone <br />Even though a thousand angels walked <br />Down her path after midnight- <br />After the cars had parked <br />And the dogs had run: Now, those who could <br />Be kissing were kissing, <br />But a million more just so happened to <br />Be lost in their echoes— <br />Those who turned around were turned <br />To salt and so could not run— <br />They remained in the valley forever, <br />Topiary of salt-lick with <br />Salt mine hearts—the dear came and kissed <br />Them down to their knees: <br />It was kissing time down in the valley— <br />And everyone who possibly could stood <br />There listening— <br />After they paid their tickets, as the mountains <br />Listened to the breeze.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/waterfall-playing-over-purple-flowers/
