The scene from a scenic and overlooked view of the falls

The mighty detective, twice
his own size at least, struggled
thoughtfully, effortlessly at the brink

of a precipice, a trap cunning-laid
and only awaiting assailant's soon-to-be
cue, to spring his deceptively iron
thews, and pause

in slaying the beloved beast,

To bid it adieu.

Looking back, looking down,
from abyssmal heights

of the rarest air, he was struck
by the shape and tone of the
rainbows made, in the vertical
maelstrom mist of spray. As he always did,
he observed the rocks upon which

they played. "I believe,"
he let slip, uncharacteristically aloud,
"I forsee a rather excellent quarry
down there, one day."

This was all many years before
the moment of fatal test. He could visit,
revisit, previsit the place every chance

he gets, knowing inevitably,
there will come the curtainfall,
the close of the act. After which,

he will never come back.
One never much needs
to return to the scene

of resolved and accomplished fact.