As Mother Sun settled down to sleep,
And Brother Twilight stepped into the air,
The evening at Chalk Cliff had started
With no human present there.

Said Chalk Cliff to the Clouds:
“I have always wondered,
Me being so sturdy and strong,
How does it feel to be flying freely
When the days and the nights are so long?”

Said the Clouds to Chalk Cliff:
“Our life spans are short,
Nothing more than wisps on the wind.
We would rather be sturdy, and rooted, and dirty,
Than be forced to break and to bend.”

Said Chalk Cliff to the Ocean:
“A slave to the land, I am, I am.
I have nowhere to go, you see.
How does it feel to be flowing, flailing,
From sea to shining sea?”

Said the Ocean to Chalk Cliff:
“My waves are not my own to control,
I have no more command than you.
A slave to myself, I am, I am,
And I would much rather be root’d.”

Thought Chalk Cliff to itself:
“The Clouds are free,
Yet they wish’d to be me;
The Ocean is high,
Yet he wish’d to be I.”