The Day the Mountain Came, for a child’s watercolor painting

The waters had adjusted well

to their new geographical condition,

begun to accept their gathered-up-ness,

and settled in their surface-flat surface.

They flowed to the heavens, cooing Blue!

Blue! Blue!

But the day the mountain came,

a pillar of sulfur rose

from the base of his spine and filled

up the sky. The waters

lashed their white arms

against his violent breast.

The waters they sang a circle of

steam round the nose of the mountain.

While the earth held its breath,

The waters reached into the sky

crying out Rain! Rain!