Full of marvelous lagoons radiating mystery, presence—
the inn in Urumba provided a peaceful restaurant—
quinoa, soup, trout, salad, and dry chocolate cake
for the time before sleep hour— preparing us

For work with the wind. Napping with intent—
incredible rejuvenation of the body—
Americo says. It can take a while,

Yet we found we did rest. The road to Ollantaymbo—
overflowing with people, donkeys, pigs, llama,
enormous corn plants, mariposa,

A flock of duck, possibly geese, several river swallows—
the color of the river— gorgeous— muddy from recent
early spring rains. Climbing slowly in introduction—

Walking through Ollantaymbo— aware of the altitude—
slowing steps to our beating hearts— the divine beauty
amidst mountain slopes— breaths taking in Inca stone,

Entering the temple of the sun, moon, puma, stars tumbling
in grandeur—Projecting our voices into little areas—
windows where— perhaps— shrines had been made.

Geoff’s channel sounded like a didgeridoo,
Rounding a corner, placing ourselves against
a wall to listen to the blowing, opening to

The expansive energy of the wind. Dispatching
care to families, friends to all the world, to the
ancestors, for it is Samhain— the day when

The veil is thin between the worlds. In the wafting,
becoming warm with expansion— perception here
with wisdom of spasms in our Shaman’s feet.