Eternally Recycling

She floats like foam
on a frozen river,
snaking through dwarf evergreens
under a yellow sun.

The stream squeezes between twin faces
of wooded hills, hugged
by a huddle of cabins with a large pond,
ringed by drifts of molten feathers,
as layers of wind arrange the clouds
in tiers that drift across the grassy sea,
where air smells of wildflowers in summer rain,
a fragrance to call forth old fears and pain.

The knot in her heart flies open
as a waterfall spills into
deep green pools,
trailing tiny wakes of sparkles.

There are no handholds to gain
in life or waterfalls,
yet Mother Nature sees all.
Her self-cleaning engine,
running on earth and sun
and wind and rain,
eternally recycling,
no loss, no gain.