Mystery in Nature

Why does the sky keep falling — but never fall? Each dusk a slow descent, yet it never shatters. How do planets remember the path their fathers walked? No traffic signs, whatsoever! yet still, none collides with the other. Why do clouds — swollen and quiet — give birth to rain, already full-grown, ready to kiss the earth? Who whispers to the raindrops which road to take? Which village to visit, which river to fill? How do babies breathe underwater, in secret wombs, wrapped in fluid, unafraid, untouched by drowning? Who painted the sky blue — and not red, or pink, or gold like morning fires? Why does it never peel? Where do plants sew their green? And who assigned them a uniform so consistent, a badge of life? Who taught the birds to weave with twigs and time, to shape cradles from wind, to fold shelter from nothing? And the sun — who tells it when to burn, and when to blink? So many questions, so few answers. But still, the earth turns. The sky holds. And I — I stand in awe. by Davie Kaliu