Echoing among the craggy cliffs
the sounds of water cascading
over the precipice and falling
hundreds of feet into the ocean.

The flat water turns to ripples
scattering outward in rings
that may eventually
undercut the overhang into a cave.

Prarie lands cling to the top of bedrock
precious inches of soil
held in place by sweet green grass
allowing sheep and goats to feed.

I sit, feet dangling over the edge
taking in the scene
and adding to it with a mellifluous tune
I whistle along with the waters echo.