Osprey feathers sway in the golden light as the heat of the day gives into cool night those were the days of youth, so grand where time stretched on like endless sand.
Now as winter beings to descent the spring air calls to repent for the ice and snow soon that summer wind will blow.
The icy storm relented on that fateful morn’, That jocund day which hope was reborn, As the winter sun meekly broke the shrouded haze, I stood there watching the falls in a clouded daze.
Roaring and churning with a power sublime, My heart leaped as it had many years before, The water rushed, the sounds brought me back, To a gentler time of yore.
When hope sprang from the sweet summer pines, And the falls called to me like a spell, Beauty clung to the air and grew quickly like vines, I can see myself in the summer of life feeling so well.
Back then, a young man stood, The only Frost to be seen was in a small book, The warmth of life floating with the roaring mist into the wood, Then a loud crash, the breaking of ice, pulled me back with a hook.
I stood in the place but without the warmth on my face, The falls still churning, the mist still dancing and falling in place, In that beautiful moment of grace, I found that hope I once found in this place.