Water Cycles

I am in constant wonder as I sit on the bank of small rivers or streams. The water flows down from above, climbing over or around the rocks and other obstacles in its path, and continues on its thoughtless journey down hill to the oceans.

The bank opposite me shows clear signs of erosion — a steep slope, bare rocks, and trees hovering well over the water, clinging desperately to the side with long, tentacled roots that bore deep into the ground.

Day and night, and throughout the seasons the water flows, always from an unknown and invisible source. Expanding my view, I look beyond the banks to see a dense and intensely green canopy of trees and vines. And further still, beyond the speckled holes in my leafy, lofty ceiling, a field of blue and purple holds on to the ever growing moisture sent up from below.

From lands far away, the sky is burdened to hold more and more water until at last she can hold no more. Having carried the clouds great distances, she becomes dark, tired, and forceful, and then returns her load to the ground from which it came.

Copyright (C), 1998, by Ashley Guberman

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