A little river weaves its way through endless plains
trying to find a safe place.
Harsh sun beats down, breaks the rough ground,
but the river runs until it can no longer evade 
the blazing death it knows awaits.

Flaming fever claims the sliver of water 
until it too is just dry, splintered earth,
and as the air ripples above the scorched ground,
the sky darkens, unforgiving light recedes, 
gloomy clouds of hope appear.

Swollen spatters start to fall slowly 
but then pound the earth, the fractures 
that have split the ground are struck, 
moulded until the land is whole again.

Refreshing rain permeates the air, but
the downpour does not relent and begins 
to douse the already quenched land, 
water rises, rises, rises until the raging storm 
becomes a soft, calm drizzle.

The little river returns, seeks the safety of the sea—
as the sky morphs from grey to blue the ocean does too,
and the wind follows like a lamb follows his shepherd
and the waves crash viciously against the shore
while little rivers slosh merrily at their banks.

Image from Pixabay