We caught the bus in Buffalo that morning, six o'clock,

"How will we find the Falls?". The driver laughed,

"You will", and soon enough we knew why he had thought us daft;

The thundershake of river pounding rock.

A boat ride took us out into a haze of noise and spray,

Coccooned in waterproofs, yet still not dry.

With seagulls screeching down to feed on fish that couldn't fly,

Who felt death's tug too late to swim away.

I wanted to get closer, so we took the lift-ride down,

Through stony caves emerging at the base,

Where water crashed and rumbled like a rocket bound for space

And misty drops gave sun a rainbow crown.

They'd told us it was nothing, said we wouldn't be impressed

And that just made its grandeur more extreme.

The dancing, screaming fury from this ever-falling stream

As mountain rains rush back to ocean rest.