A thousand waterfalls, or more,
towering layers, feeding one another.
Turbid and deep in the ancient slough.
Across a soak of violet moss,
an algae rinse surveying silent
the ardor of springtime blossom.

Fuschia kelp hewn from amethyst;
the lilacs died and their graves grew moss.
With these sugilite sculptures, the falls were imbrued,
and soon were given unto the same cerise hue.

These tiered creeks, so like a staircase, fell in love
with the bryphophite wash.

And like a pond filled with plums,
the lake birthed from the falls
proved to be dyed the most purple of all.