Water
Water is probably alive. I watch it, too unhappy here Descending from the atmosphere To fall against itself and writhe Through steaming London. I'm sure it can't have chosen, If it gets to choose, to settle down In such a loud forgetful town, Cursed at by the coughing crowds, Abandoned by the dying clouds. Better to burst as fresh salt spray On San Francisco's golden bay, Or nurture nameless flowers for The jungle's preening herbivores. Still, I'm sure it'll get the chance, Evaporate, and start to dance.

This is absolutely spectacular. I love it very much!