There is water on my street, in the air and in my hair
The journey of a water droplet

Mr. Jones washes his car
water runs to the street,
but doesn’t get very far.

The mouth of a storm drain stands ready to drink this water,
so soapy and muddy.

There is water on my street, in the air and in my hair.

It secretly passes under my street
and runs to the river.
Still the journey's not complete.

In the small river fish are scurrying,
to the big-mouthed rivers the water's hurrying.

There is water on my street, in the air and in my hair.

Tossed about by waves
water runs to the ocean,
then evaporates.

A cloud in the sky is at home,
sipping up water from ocean foam.

The cloud darkens, looms, scares
…water begins to fall,
it's raining on my hair!

I wonder what Mr. Jones used to wash his car?
That soapy, muddy water didn't go far.

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