When I visit a landmark of some type, I like to sit in an out-of-the-way corner in stillness. Hopefully, I will feel like I am a part of that place. I might ponder the most difficult of questions from a counselor from my graduate school days: “How did that make you feel?” My visit to Iguazu Falls resulted in these words:
The curtain of underbrush shields a hidden world
where elusive rainbows gleam from sudden mists.
Greedy burrowers snuffle luggage,
And the butterflies know secrets.
The river that divides is, itself, divided
By cliffs as well as this year’s island.
It rises and falls by season,
giving birth to new cataracts.
The tourists flow through it all,
Though soon mists become clouds,
As the sky reaches down to earth.
A sudden deluge sends the humans running.