Water.  An ancient sound.

A motion, falling, moving,

Colliding, turning.  A color with

aroma.  Bending in search of a

lower level.  Respecting the

language of gravity, yielding to

its pull.


Shorelines hold back aggressive

waters.  Mountains remain safe.

Valleys fear the worst.


Rivers build like armies from

the smallest of streams, following

paths to the oceans where they blend

until vaporized into rain, starting

over, once again.



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