Depending on the reading level of the students, either the teacher or student(s) read outloud.  Then go right into council.  If you prefer, you may want to open council first, then read the tale and then offer the prompt(s).  You might also want to precede or follow this council with a lesson or review of the water cycle. 
THE LITTLE STREAM CALLED TO THE SEA
A Sufi Tale
There was once a little stream that dreamed of flowing to the sea. The stream started in an aquifer, a huge pool of water underground, but the call of the ocean was so strong that the stream pushed its way through nooks and cracks up through the earth until it burst forth into the air and began its journey toward the sea.  As its waters bubbled to the surface they ran down the hill, carving a stream bed into the earth. Sometimes the stream babbled as it traveled, sometimes it gurgled, sometimes it roared. At times the stream traveled alone. Its waters were so clear you could see the pebbles that lined its bed.  At other times the stream ran through great lakes, or tumbled over a cliff, or joined other streams to form a river, and then split again to once more travel alone, but always, always the little stream yearned to flow into the sea.  Deep down in its coolest waters it heard a continual call, the call of the ocean.  (You've heard it if you've ever held a shell to your ear).
Sometimes the stream would run fast and deep, eager to reach the sea. Fish swam in its waters as it carried them swiftly on its journey.  Sometimes the stream would grow wide and slow.  And, it would carry boats on its back as it continued its journey. But always, always the little stream yearned to flow into the sea.
One day, just as the call of the ocean seemed to grow a bit stronger , the stream found itself growing sluggish, its waters grew thick with mud, until sadly it pooled into a brackish mud hole right on the edge of the desert. "Woe is me," thought the little stream, "now I'll never get to the sea." It tried going around the desert--but the desert was too wide.  It tried to go under the desert but the desert was too deep.  Still (even with mud in its "ears") the little stream heard the call of the ocean and yearned to flow to the sea.
After what seemed like a long time as the stream just pooled there in the sun, it began to here a second voice.  "I can take you to the sea, little stream," whispered the wind.  "Come with me, I'll carry you to the ocean shore."
"How could you do that?" scoffed the stream, "You are only made of air."
"I can carry you on a breeze," whispered the wind, "But you must be very brave, for you must let go of yourself and change."
"I've changed many times," said the stream.
"But this will be different," said the wind. The little streamed paused, but deep within the stream still yearned for the sea.  The wind picked it up particle by particle and it became moisture swirling into the sky.  
The view was like nothing the little stream had ever seen before. Not only was the whole world laid out below it, but it was surrounded by sparkling jewels. Then what had been the streamed realized that all those sparkling jewels were parts of itself. Molecules of water, droplets of moisture, sparkling in the light. What had been the stream realized that it was truly beautiful on the inside. 
Next the stream-turned-moisture saw that it was not alone, for the wind had whispered to other streams, and ponds, and even to the morning dew upon the oasis. All had turned into moisture. And, all their parts were also sparkling in the sun. Together they were even more beautiful for the sunlight had changed them into all the colors of a rainbow. 
Then the little stream-turned-rainbow felt itself falling, and falling and falling.  All the other droplets were falling too, until Plop, plop, plop, plop..... all the droplets ran together into a mighty river which rushed down the mountain side, across a coastal plain and into the sea where the waves pushed it back and pulled it forward and the currents carried it far out into the pulsing depths. The little stream was content.
But, I understand, that every now and then, the wind breezes by, whispering to the currents in the sea -- come with me, come with me and once again the moisture rises up into the wind and is carried away to start all over again.