It was still early when we left the road
sparkling with morning sun
and took the path that brought us
to this coast. I remember
how the mist came down.

Stones huge as ancient gods
rose up before us
ringing us round. You stooped
and picked a small wild orchid.
We passed through

and came to cliffs,
upended granite, mist
boiling, the crash of unseen waves.
Our lips salty our hair
streaking our cheeks.

We threw on bird skins,
long grey feathers
curving black-tipped wings
exultant beaks. How the wind
lifted us to hang in the white air

to swoop among the cliffs
their jagged teeth their
perilous updrafts. Our eyes
piercing the cloud saw starfish
and succulent sweet urchins.

On a broad ledge we rested. Feathered masks
dropped down. Caressing beaks
were lips again.
We slept
and woke to sun.