The creek is nearly dry now,
the rocks that make up its bed
exposed. Feeling the dry air
against their surfaces, they remember
the high places from which they fell
ages ago, and before that, the eons
they spent inside the earth’s womb
until the thunderous tumult pushed
them upward through its crust until
they reached the sky. They recall
the way trees grew between them,
winding their great roots in a living caress,
freeing them, one by one, to tumble
downward, to begin the long journey
home.