Sheer skyfall, blue to blue,
plumb-lined from the heavens to the deep
measures a cliff, eroded from creation,
where only dune-grass and sheep may grow,
miraculously rooted as the earth turns.
We set out on a narrow path
littered with diamonds until,
Our mother recalled us to the peril, now set between us,
a black and gold serpent basking under the pitiless sun.