In from seven dreams that flew through Tartarus and Fez,
I’m out of bed to see what morning says.
Stumble down the stairs and wander onto the lanai.
A cup of Joe should bring Oahu nigh.
Thirteen floors above Kapiolani Boulevard.
From this remove life doesn’t seem so hard!
Thirteen floors below, I find there’s often cause to fret
and curse this ticking, forty-odd-year bet.
Lost is Sappho’s “Hymn to Pele.” She was here, it’s true.
Lydia Lili’uokalani thought so, too!
Doggerel is all that comes these minutes just past six,
so silly verse is what I get for kicks:
Dante’s cantos don’t describe this kind of Paradise.
His Beatrice would surely think it nice!
Diamond Head will sleep until the angels heave their sigh.
The taxis preen upon the Ala Wai.
What if Milton got here first, instead of Captain Cook?
Would he have had his serpent take a look?
Old Aegean trade winds knew the way from there to here.
The queen composed “Aloha ‘Oe” to catch them in her ear!
Dreams can make you wonder how one ends up in a place,
with kids, a spouse, four walls, some books, this face.
Yes, Sisyphus will roll that stone until his back is bent.
Up Diamond Head, I’m sure he’d feel content!
O Honolulu, give me breath – I’ve been long on the fly.
To think that we had almost said goodbye!
But now I’m here to stay, I beg you blanket me with sky,
and please restrain the hours from rushing by!
Yes, please restrain the hours from rushing by!