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Trillium Falls 

Sunlight slants through redwoods,
beckons me to leave my stony unforgiving,
to hike this winding path.
Big-leaf maples stretch moss-draped arms,
Pacific wrens trill spring songs.
The trail leads past white trillium
so rain-soaked they've turned glassy,
past stippled stamens of skunk cabbage
upright in bright yellow blossoms.
Crossing slatted bridges,
each footfall farther from passing judgment,
until, hidden among trees towering above,
white water thunders from two cascades,
plunges around emerald moss-upholstered rocks.
gushes under draping fronds of green and brown.
Aslant the racing stream, a fallen log sprouts small ferns.
Clambering down, a kid among the glistening rocks
and crashing splashes, moist moss dripping,
cool spray bathes my face, clenched jaw washed free.
Photo after photo tries to catch the tumbling water,
the ions' cure lifting me outside myself.

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Pat McCutcheon

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