Delphi Falls
The distant drumming of water
grew to pounding thunder
as we drew closer to the falls.
We edged nearer on the scrabble path,
plunged into refrigerated shade
under the tuck of the cliff. My sister and I
leaned in to hear our mother’s stories, our voices
raised above the din of the oracle’s timpani,
her white hair misted dark
as she recalled her younger day, dancing
square and round there, in the nutbrown
pavilion overlooking the gorge.
We three turned silent
as we watched the bridal veil
fan across the granite.
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