Phantom

Noon. The light was dim
Through a clouded scrim
Of birch. Pretty grim
For June. On a whim
Then, humming the hymns

His faith had taught him,
He walked to the rim
Of the falls, the brim
Spilling, the spray limned
With angel's wings, prim

Divinity's slim
Outline between them,
The shapes of her limbs
Gleaming where light skimmed.
The angel said, Swim.