Feather Quills

When the sun sinks into the sea

–a candle snuffed out suddenly–

the silhouettes of palm trees darken

against the fading colours of the sky.

Their leaves become black as crow feathers–

old-fashioned feather quills

writing poetry upon the earth’s dome

among the shooting stars.

My brother Winston took this pic of our brother Monti’s back yard.

Oh, hey, aloha!

I’m outside walking on a January day;

the sidewalks and the sky are matching gray.

I pull my hands into my sleeves,

–the cold wet air is biting me–

but inside there’s a flame no one can see.

I’ve got Maui warmth

hidden in my heart.

The sunshine from Paia

is here to stay, yeah.

Oh, yeah, aloha!

Oh, yeah, aloha!

When you are in Hawaii,

no one asks you why

you’re doing what you’re doing

or you’re wearing what you’re wearing, today.

They say, “Oh, hey, aloha!

Hope you have a great day!

Oh, hey, aloha,

it’s just fine doing things your own way.”

When I was out swimming

with my brothers in the sea

I cut my foot on coral

now the sea’s inside of me.

I’ve got mermaid scars

(perhaps I’ll grow a tail).

The ocean’s salt is in my blood

and bright Maui stars

are ever in my eyes.

So oh, hey, aloha,

hope you’re having a great day

Oh hey aloha,

I’ll be going back to Maui,

someday.