This is the hidden place that hiders know. This is where hiders go. Step softly, the snow that falls here is different snow, The rain has a different sting. Step softly, step like a cloud, step softly as the least Whisper of air against the beating wing, And let your eyes be sealed With two blue muscadines Stolen from secret vines, Or you will never find in the lost field The table spread, the signs of the hidden feast.