Rivers In The Sky Poem by Mary Champion

The sky is where all rivers begin,
measured out one drop, or one flake at a time,
that first make landfall high in the hills,
or accumulate on rocky mountain tops.

Helpless in the grip of gravity
they tumble downwards, gathering momentum
and volume, gouging out rough channels
that will remain when all rivers have run dry.

As long as the water cycle turns,
it will flow inexorably to the sea.
But water has a long memory.
It remembers that it was born in the sky.

So, when the Sun's warm rays approach and
seduce it with hypnotic nostalgia,
it turns back towards its lofty home
to revive its appetite for adventure.

Then, refreshed and rejuvenated,
captured by the relentless water cycle,
one single drop or flake at a time,
it will descend to replenish the rivers.