Water. No smell. No taste. And takes the shape of a vessel you put it in. It cannot be held in hands for it slips through the fingers. Yet it makes a path through stones of a mountain.

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when the snow on mountain peak melts in the late spring (for that mountain peak is high above us), it is a promise of new life

flowers bloom and cover the grass

yet, water that was left after the ice melted, threatens to flood the town beneath it