Quincunx Quatrain (Now we're in the thick of it)

Thunder rumbles
Over glaciers,
After lightning
Licks the blue air
Of Lake Slocan,

Where the falls roar.
Let those who can
Connect the dots,
As the author
Tumbles the die.

Everything falls
In its own way,
But all that falls
Shapes the same curve
Every damned time.

The curve itself
Says all falls are
Random, only the
Curve determined.
But the falls roar.