Empress Falls, Blue Mountains

At first you worry about
your shoes getting wet
then you realise
you are walking on poetry.

You think
I'd better go and open the shop
but the falling streams hold you
in their crystal veils
as in a syren's tresses.

Let them wait
to drink their cups of tea
for I am intoxicated
by nectar draughts
drawn down steps
hewn of brute stone
by poets