Balancing Rock

Without appropriate walking shoes or boots,
We tourists tramp the well-trod trail and march
Past balsam fir and fern, by spruce and larch
Avoiding spongy mud and trip wire roots,
Grateful for a hundred yards of boarded walk
Across the marshy scrub and squelchy grass.
We pause by information points and pass
Returning walkers, exchange small talk,
Then come upon the steep descent: a score
Of steps, then more and more until we turn
Towards the platform under which the churning
Sea explodes. Unmoved by the ceaseless roar
Or by its well advertised allure,
The Balancing Rock remains sedate, secure.