When old words die out on the tongue,
new melodies break forth from the heart;
and where the old tracks are lost,
new country is revealed with its wonders.

Rabindranath Tagore

Tuco thought about Elinor's comment
"It had long since come to my attention
that people of accomplishment rarely sat back
and let things happen to them.
They went out and happened to things."

He rolled the words slowly,
"They went out and happened to things."
Then Ben had said, "we vote with our actions."
The next morning they rode into town, caught a train,
headed to the coast. Ben wrote once.
A picture postcard showing a hang-glider
drifting over ocean with the sun
setting behind. And clouds, (ocean sunsets
always have clouds), clouds filling the horizon
with blushing goodnights.

Ben just wrote, "The air sings here.
All by itself. If you sit real quiet
you hear songs you never hear
otherwise."

And then, closing, he wrote
"Good memories bro,
Ben."

Tuco poured more coffee.
Lifted the cup toward the sun
rising beyond saquaro.
He remembers old songs
and blesses Ben and Elinor
and the wonder of new country.