The Cliff Was There Poem by Alven L. Robinson

The cliff was there
before my I,
waiting for a friend;
a patient wall
an echo calling
from the ledge.

And there below
the darkness seen,
a river running fast,
toward the cataracts
that gleam as eyes
before the seas.

The hawk could see
the prey was gone,
too soon, too late,
the pearls whisper
white, the dawn
still left to fate.

Then the talons
caught, as dying
to a trance;
one second always
sought - perhaps
one only chance.