Three dark nights before the flood, Noah sat in a circle of dirt, thinking about what lay ahead.
He was righteous.
He was just.
He walked with God.
He sat and thought and waited.
He thought of his sons. He thought of his wife. He thought of his sons’ wives. He thought of the animals, wild and tame, the birds of the air, the creeping things of the earth.
He thought of the earth.
He thought of the waters.
His eyes filled with tears that spilled into the circle of dust from which he cried out to God. He took a handful of the damp earth and with it, covered his face.
Three days later, the rains came and washed the dried earth away. The circle of dirt of his dark nights became a valley. Then a mountain.
Then a memory.