How we move on earth, romanticizing sips of our merging cells, drawn from algae-fed fish in Pacifica, from root corms below the surface of volcanic soil, how we move over water to distant shores, muscles rippling the meridian, shooting the sun, mixing, bubbling up from harsh winters and melting snow. Viking quests battling sea-ward, planting seeds in wombs, in ploughs. We are in swaying prairie grasses, shouldering wooden wagon wheels, thrusting America through ruts of wild land, carbon foot prints of our blood left behind. How I flow with the rhythm of places, ancient rivers of energy still alive in the movement that is us.