This is a world of many rains.
Of pouring downs and flooded street-drains.
I had stopped hearing the cities call.
In the woods I found a misting fall
The water decent down like walls.

Down into a slow creek that became a surging stream.
The stream moved on and flowed to a river.
The river surged, gaining power.

I pondered why the water below
the falls somehow moved so slow.

I wanted to be like the water.