What do you first think of,

when you think of water?

Do you think of a flowing stream,

with small fish and large stones adorning

the freshwater shimmer of liquid crystal?

Perhaps a single drop landing in a pool,

the perfect ripples casting outwards

to wrinkle an otherwise smooth surface.

Another way to think of water

could perhaps be found in storms.

The dangerous sort, that ends with damage and a body count.

A tumultuous tempest in the middle of an ocean

with a tapering point sucking water to its funnel,

directing torrential winds with its own might?

The damaging winds that bend palms trees in half,

that rip roofs off houses,

called derecho and tornado all on its own?

A massive rainfall leading to a flash flood,

carrying away buildings and people alike,

leaving behind ravaged, current-carved earth?

The earth that creates a semi-solid,

ever-changing base,

that is only as stable as the things upon it?

A seemingly calm river with small waves,

that seems inviting enough,

until the unmerciful currents drag and drown you?

The burn of your lungs equate to that of fire;

the fire that takes and consumes,

unending and uncontrollable?

Water is many things,

like the calming substance nature has come to love,

but also the vicious liquid nature has come to hate.

What is the last thing you think of,

when you think of water?

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