Power

We stood to watch the fall.

Smooth as oiled pistons
Black as cut flint
The water bent
Over the lip of rock
And sank in one white column
Into the pool
A hundred feet below,
Singing as with a hundred throats
One wild discordant chord
Of exultation.

Some savage god
Sinewed and black and spare
Must surely rule?

Above the din
You mouthed a different thought,
‘What a waste of power!’ you said.