Here, in thinner air, we move
more easily through deep canyon,
myth, and mountain.
Here, the earth stirs at our walking,
amber streams rise from our heels.
The veins of the hills open
and flow at dusk.
Ribs curve dry and brittle
Heart beats drums.

We emerge into a new world
carrying in brown hands
feathers from ancient selves.
In the winds circling the moon
they dance licking each limb
into old forgotten fever.

Messengers come plaintive panting
from lower hibernating lands
hump on their backs
our sloughed off skins
and curl upon themselves.

We curl around each other,
double rainbow after storm.
The new moon carries the old
in her blue arms.
Yet must we singly weave
new cloud new earth new sky
spin from silent eye
new webs to hold
across a windy dawn.