In Praise Of Water Poem by Sandy Fulton

Such a common thing is water, and how unique.
They told us in high school some of its marvels,
that it's an acid, H2O,
like the burning hydrochloric splash
the day a student dropped his beaker,
yet the opposite, an alkaline, H(OH) ,
like the ammonia that aggravates our lungs.
Surprise! It's both!
Milder than those, but stronger
from the sharing of contrary qualities—
the great dissolver, the universal solvent,
the chemical diplomat putting its diversity to work.

Water is always at work.
When it falls
it moves the paddles of water mills
that grind grain, full cloth, draw wire,
make power.
We confine water, call it steam
when it's heated,
becomes vapor, expands, contracts, condenses,
counteracting its docile state
to expend energy.
And chilled water becomes ice,
he only solid lighter than its liquid.

There would be no life,
but for the magic of floating ice.
When our world was new
and molecules united on shallow seabeds
in rain-replenished water,
those small lives would have died
had solid ice dropped down on them.
But it floated, and formed a roof
to shelter life against wintry cold.
A bonus favor—and why
the living creatures of our planet
are made of water,

Even the ocean trench hot vent beings
that die at a whiff of oxygen.
We who are humans need it.
Three-quarters of us are nothing but water.
We drink fresh water to stay alive,
bathe in it to keep our health.
Often water contains hidden health,
not only at a favored spa
but in the arms of ocean brine
that unwinds our bodies
on a warm summer's day,
a respite from our labors.

We now know that water
delivers its favors
far beyond our world:
on Mars, on moons of our Sun's planets,
on Pluto and beyond.
It's everywhere in the universe.
Is there anything so awesome
as water, our parent, the mentor of life, our friend,
and anything in the cosmos that tastes so good
and satisfies our needs
like deep cold water
from a hand-pump spout into a tin cup?

We need to cherish water, keep it safe,
believe it was waiting for life
from the year zero;
and name our greatest gift what it is:
God's wine.