Island Life
Grass blades cascading, curled
down like fingers on the crook of a cane
the palm trees swaying
their gangly frame against
blue, just blue,
the sea in the sky dotted
with the lightest white puffs
from a tropical giant’s pipe.
The sunlight dances among the
lilikoi vines, settling on
the sand shade to
breathe in that island life,
the island life where
things are much the same, the waves
rolling and crashing the shore
where the kids and their kids surf, the sun and wind
cracking the same crevices, the creatures all
cooing the same tunes.
That’s the island life
where time flows only through your skin,
ripening like mango.