A poem I wrote this afternoon. Continued reflections of a life on the island.

Wind beaten, a serows tear –
hide the ravages of time.
Screams above the din,
dried to a sand path.
Half-dead Kawakamil trees,
a shade better today.

The scent of plum rain,
both host and guest –
walking on the outside
of an inside world.
And I remain, as before –
a passing shadow to your
island shore.