The rain it dumps,
the rain it pours,
the rivers are rising,
bar the door.
The graphs we watch,
the sky we search,
we view the river
from a dry perch.
We wonder where
the water goes.
Will the ocean receive
these awesome flows?
The sea accepts,
and sends them back
in the form of
the next storm track.
And on these rises
steelhead swim,
to find their way
to where they begin.
The highs, the lows,
you know not when
the fish are there,
you try again.
and then it stops,
that rain on tin.
Grab your rod,
it's dropping in...