Amnicon Falls

Open Vessel

by Diana Randolph

When you sit upon the rocky ledge and gaze at sculpted faces of ancient rocks do you hear them whisper secrets of their formation? Listen closely—they may reveal how lava flowed a billion years ago, creating dark basalt— solid remnants at the upper falls. Beneath the earth, bedrock slowly shifted along a fault line moving upward, giving direction for water to tumble. While flowing to an ancient ocean, silty streams deposited sand at lower falls, creating sandstone and glaciers took a role in forming this unique region.

Mysterious, magical places are found in legends, locations between veils of time and space. Mouths of rivers—intervals between two sources, mist—not fully water or air, bridges—suspended above water and land, and waterfalls—spots between an upper and lower stream.

When you stand at these sacred crossroads, doorways open. Reveal your wishes aloud as you pause to slow your pace, to be still while in motion. Open your senses fully now to fill your vessel then let it overflow, tumbling into the stream of the wider world to splash and join your renewed essence with others, to be an instrument of service and hope.

Hidden Stuff

by Jan Chronister

Everything is made of one hidden stuff.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Just once I’d like to have a day to do nothing but watch hawks and treetop eagles.

Stand by a river when winter melts and Spring flexes her muscles. The Amnicon or Brule would do just fine.

Feel the weight of frozen months rise with the boiling sap steam, my feet once more anchored to brown, soft ground, soup stock where ancient elements swim, hidden stuff of Emerson.

A Taste of Eternity

by Jan Bosman

Never pausing, waterfall, over ancient rocks you roar, tumble, and drop while spray rises from your surface and moves toward my face, and I wonder when you began roiling, flowing like eternity— no beginning and no end— just white water racing, cascading, your mist moistening my lips.