Neptune sighed, he missed his daughter.
He tried the cold shoulder, a long dry summer
Where the swamps turned to mud and cracked.
But as the rivers fell he balked, “How will they swim back to me?”
Gathering up the mists from the baking seas and sunlit coasts,
He cast them ashore with a whisper and a promise.
Come back, just for a moment, and cool your feet.
Even though I know you will ride these winds home again.
