So much of my childhood passed
like this - smudged on the cusp of dark
I'd stand where the dim farmhouse
cast its shadow on the drowsy yard,
beside a palm whose crown caught
just a whisper of the distant sea,
sighing with nostalgia
for Hawai'i and Tahiti.
Frangipani wove white dream
tiaras out of fragrant stars;
palm fronds imitated ocean's
kiss on black volcanic sands
laced with minerals and ash,
a palimpsest of coral shards.
Islanded in solitude where hills
rose up to shield the bay,
I'd seek a glimpse of solace
in the efflorescent Milky Way,
imagining the Polynesians
steering by the galaxy,
calculating landfall by the same
salt-crystal star-drawn charts.
After dark
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106021900347
Свидетельство о публикации №106021900347
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