My board glides across a glassy

Surface letting the sun’s rays waltz

Over. I leave behind ebbed

Tides that slowly steal sand one grain

At a time and paddle further

Away from reassuring shores

Through shallow surf. White peaks spray salt

Mist on faces of fishermen

Far in the distance; they pull a pink

Snapper in. Opakapaka.

It’s too small to keep the captain

Shouts. I drift along side ripples

And witness tourists take hula

Lessons on Duke’s grass,

Taught by seasoned coconut trees.

They sway to the tradewinds’ rhythm.

• BROWSE / IN TIMELINE
• « The Onion called Oppression: Peeling Back the Layers of Subordination and Crying by Adam Chang
• » Dirty socks by Melissa Summers-Day

• BROWSE / IN Poem
• « After Last Night: A study in Form by Mericia Palma
• » Dirty socks by Melissa Summers-Day