Every morning, a couple of hours after dawn
a wispy yellow butterfly
leaves her sanctuary of tall dry grass and discarded afterthoughts
to sit for a moment
on moist Pahala black sand
polished by the Pacific Ocean’s insistent caresses
and seasoned with salt as old as time.
She performs this daily ritual
Though the storm abated
when the morning sky expelled charcoal clouds
whose light sabers summoned guttural roars
that shook my sleeping soul,
I remain cautious with dread
as I collect branches broken before their time
and leaves scattered across the path
leading to my garden pelted by hail.
My senses await the portent
of yet more of heaven’s random wrath
while my bones prepare to rattle
at the mere hint of barometric shift.
Then you bring me coffee
and bid me to pause
for just a moment,
so you can read to me
today’s forecast of clear skies,
light breezes and
perhaps gentle rain.
And you assure me that
the modest wren shall sing once more.
Though we stand apart,
all creation shall pattern
Photo taken from Kihei looking towards Lahaina, Maui, Hawaii
Solitary though I stand across the distance
I still feel the primal pulse in our kindred hearts.
Defenders, Keepers, Protectors.
Some brandish a holy book or burn incense
or mumble morning prayers to the east.
Some never give heaven a second thought.
I search your eyes among the masses
and sometimes catch the golden glimmer
of ancient urges and unabashed courage.
Defenders of children clothed in rainbow skins
Stewards of creation birthed in genesis
Protectors of water pulsing in earth’s veins.
I cannot escape your primal war cry.
Allow me join your army of righteousness.
Let me wear your colors and wield your sword.
Today, live in awe
of our Creator’s life lines
Sky, earth, each other.