Daily Note
A poem, a photograph, a note every day. Today we heard that the waterfalls along the coulee highway along Banks lake were tumbling over the basalt cliffs. Most were now mere sprinklings, but we pulled into one we’d take the grandkids to during Cousin Camp. Back then we could walk into the cave eroded out from centuries of snow melt waterfalls after the Great Missoula Floods of ancient times and before the changes in climate that make our area semi-arid and now of drought clime. As you can see, the area is overgrown and the floor of the cave is much more like bowl— different from ten to fifteen years ago when we could easily walk behind the waterfall, laughing as grandson Ben “broadcast” our adventures with those old three-megapixel digital cameras. Great memories, and today we were blessed with a partial rainbow in the lower third. 🙂
Poetry
End of Winter
Melt of the snow falls
Sheri Edwards
in final vestige of a
gentle waterfall
dressed in a rainbow fragment
dancing on ancient basalt
04.14.23 105.365.23
Poetry/Photography
Tanka
I wonder, if I draw a line... 