The ground you walk on is rock. I have been here before.

People come here to be born, to discover, to kiss,

to dream, and to dig and to kill. Watch for the mud.

Summer blows in with scent of horses and roses;

fall with the sound of sound breaking; winter shoves

its empty sleeve down the dark of your throat.

You will learn toads from diamonds, the fist from palm,

love from the sweat of love, falling from flying.
—Lisel Mueller