SOME POUNDING PRAYER BY GENE HYDE

The trashing water, the rush like some pounding prayer
– Peter Heller, The Painter

Countless times I’ve stood
 Here, boots off, numbed by the cold,
  Redeemed by the flow:

   Ripples rustle so
    Softly, murmuring vespers
     In the cool mountain

      Air. All silent save
       The rhythm of this cold creek,
        Gently gurgling hymns,

         Harmonies growing louder,
          Splashing rapids, now roaring, rushing,
           Comingled in pounding prayer.