Just past a long stretch of loose stones, I met a man
tending his bike.

"You ride over that?" I asked, pointing to a jumble of
stones."It's the big rocks that are dangerous. I came
up against one
             and
          fell.                              

Hills rise, dip, rise again to cries, calls, squeals, booms,
and winnows in the air, but also to words on a page,
memories, expectations, the unspoken desires and
histories of other beings where it's too far to turn back.