Tag: palm trees

Lava Burns by Starlight

On By Anna EastlandIn Marriage, motherhood, PoetryLeave a comment

✨

It’s unusually cold tonight;

the wind has blown away the clouds

to reveal a crisp star-scape

glittering down on a thin layer of snow.

❄️

The cedars on the back yard

wave and dance to the tune

of our wooden wind-chimes

as they point up at the sky.

🌲

Inside, I cradle our sleeping baby—

her fever burns so hot,

I dream of a woman

who keeps falling into fire.

🔥

She carries molten lava

in a metal box, glowing golden-red,

and she keeps falling into the magma

yet somehow staying alive.

🔥

I dream this terrible dream,

until it wakes me up in a sweat

with only the burning baby

beside me in bed, but not you.

🛏

You are working down in California,

where the weather’s simply lukewarm—

no wind-whipped snow

making the ground clench it’s jaws.

🌊

Instead, wind whips the waves

along the sand-covered beach;

I wonder if the palm trees

outside your hotel are dancing.

🌴

Feather Quills

On By Anna EastlandIn Poetry, travel1 Comment

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.

Island Lullaby

On By Anna EastlandIn Poetry, Uncategorized2 Comments

In Hawaii, the sun sinks into the sea

like a burning golden coin–

you can actually watch it slip below the surface.

The clouds show off their colours:

peachy orange and cotton candy pink,

dark grey accentuated by strips of shining gold.

After it’s done, the sunset hurrah,

deep darkness falls quickly.

The winding island roads are bathed in blackness.

Everything fades away except ohana, family,

the small circle of warmth

around you and and your loved ones,

sipping wine and sharing stories.

With no streetlights to prolong the day,

it soon feels so late and sleepy.

Bed beckons after a day on the beach.

You’re ready for the windy palm tree lullaby,

that endless rustling of phantom rain

that is simply leaves swaying in the starlight.

The crickets convince you to close your eyes and listen.

“Be soothed, be soothed,” they sing.

“Soon enough the sun will return…

rooster will be sure to let you know.

Early and often he will call:

‘Get up! Get up! A new adventure begins!’ ”