Seven distinct shades of blue in
the sunlight and clear to the bottom,
deep, glowing green edged with white,
and slate gray beneath cloudy skies.
Green to the top of a ragged skyline,
a horizon drawn by a happy child,
sides bent into sharp, origami folds,
they rise to make the island center.
Tall and elegant, they lean seaward,
their branches flying in the breeze.
Macadamia groves, tall narrow pines,
papayas hanging heavy in a bunch, and
coconuts lying asymmetrical on the sand.
Bright, fragrant blooms in neon colors,
yellow flared petals, bright pinks on pink,
beautiful Plumeria, tucked behind ears.
Geckos, quick as light, scale a wall
and disappear into the garden beyond.
Heavy blackness, swirled and pooled
in a think mass, field after field ,
solid as stone and sharp as glass,
it allows no trespass without payment,
its silence and its power understood.
Rushing inside an oncoming wave,
climbing the beach and racing to return,
pulling away from my heels, my toes,
covering my feet and holding me fast.
Everywhere water, in the air you breathe,
dripping off roofs, windows, leaves, my arms,
mildew and mustiness inside open-windowed
houses with glass blinds, and the smell of
salt, the sea and sunshine, as time slows.
Dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes that
open to welcome and help, big smiles
and strong generous hands and hearts.
Since they are so far from everywhere,
there seems no reason to rush through life.