Winged Quetzalcōātl, sister to wind—I found a version etched in stone, stunning fossilof human imagination. The Serpent GodWhen the serpentgod returned toTenochtitlán,the sky was full of flame, templesburned,the cauldronof Lake Texcoco boiledto salt. The flying dragonHer plumage adornsthe heads of men who considerthemselves divine—Quetzal, check box on my life list. The bird dwells in cloud forests,I climbed mountains,listened to wind,but could not spot her,bright medicinefor souls who findjoy in the mythic. If I close my eyes, I can see herpipping the world-shell to emergefrom the crater flameshave made, froma rottednest ofancestry.