We meander through rattlesnake heaven;
We roam a land feral with grain
Golden for little creatures.
The Lost Coast embraces us.

The seed of the wind and the seed of the waters have become one;
The water swells;
The sounds have become the sounds of the blood in my head;
The tide is higher.

It is always a surging thing,
Always a quiet raving wind,
Always a loud stilleto tinitis
But you had to lead me here
For me to listen to the wind and the waves,
For me to hear words whipping the sands
At the moment them whispering in stutters
So I hear quaking of the wild oats.

Between the wind's breathings
The sun is warm as a bubble bath.

I think for a moment there will be a flash
    As the ocean's horizon rises above the sun.
I feel for the moment our hands first touch
    The movement of celestial bodies.
I know  of the sun's face always swallowing Earth's sky
    Though the earth is my constant and to me the sun moves.
I see our bodies are trees:
    We are always connecting the heaven and the earth.

We turn through the grasses, returning to our beds.
We pause, spotting the pit viper at our feet.
We have interrupted his study of an entrance into the underworld.

He silently considers us.
His tongue flick is the speed of a hummingbird thought.
He breathes.
We breathe as he goes through the door.