Some days the love just wells up inside of me
and it is frightening to contemplate
the magnitude and breadth of my place
in Creation’s scheme;
A gratitude for life, for the creatures in it,
the diversity and color and timbre of voices,
abundance of individuality;
goodness of the ground I am
privileged to cultivate.
Trees that allow me to climb them,
bare feet gripping branches where hang
round-bodied orbs impossible to consume
in their profusion – meant of course
to share, to give away,
fulfilling fruit’s ambition to spread seed.
Folks come to Hawai’i and head for the beach
to warm winter-weary limbs in a viscous bath of salt,
and though I am a swimmer, it is to the land I am drawn.
Stepping out my back lanai in the late afternoon to water,
arcing streams of salvation to each green and growing thing;
even unto a plethora of flowers to which I surrender delight.
Years of harsh winters before arriving on these shores
and I couldn’t bear to watch fragile petals crumple;
dead stalks propped up with frost.
Gazing up over the tops of giant Norfolk pines,
the sun pales to a palette of pinks and golds,
enfolding the land in the indigo twilight of evening.