From a series of poems written during my stay in the Black Forest.
"Stay on the path,
danger of falling."
Of course I obey
and mind my steps
on the narrow lane
we, little humans,
needed to pave
to safely admire
these grand waterfalls.
I passed by some roots,
sinewy and gnarled,
massive and strong;
had they a will,
they could crush me
in no time.
Moss and ferns,
spruces and firs,
complete the decor.
The elves have taste
in silvan homes.
As I stand small
beneath the towering
waterfall,
leaves start falling,
and their graceful dance
awakes a nostalgia
from far away,
from different lives
and an unknown place.
My thoughts drown,
washed by the current,
dancing along.
