by James Ragan
Beneath the drizzling golden hues of sunlight,
a palm is swaying tall, muscular in its song,
smooth as a kumu hula sidestep, grazing the sand,
or a chanter’s muse waving a song
along the fingers to storied heights, each hand
rolling in air to dance one beat into a pair.
Down coast, the Hilo Bay lights dance
the beaches into one, with avenues of lamps
glaring like a necklace hanging stars
along the breast of the moon, pearled
in halves above the shore. Where the sand pools
against a boat, a ridge of water laps the bow
in leaps like a dog trained high to teeth a bone.
A sudden presence, a lone child, staring up
to where Mauna Kea steers the moon’s glide
into stone, bounds one way, now another,
as if some force, pulling her, were gamboling back.
There is no dog to leash, no mounds or rivulets,
no mele hula to dance, no orchids or shells
to necklace into leis. What is it, she seeks
to find in the ballet of water? What does she see
in its translucence? Is it the absence of stars
in darkness, or the moon, breathing light
into her reflection, into the rhythm of waves
chanting, soft as wind riffling breath
into the fertile heart of the palm, dancing free!
James Ragan has authored 10 books of poetry (Grove Press, Henry Holt, Salmon Press, etc) with poems in Poetry, The Nation, North American Review, L.A. Times, Bomb, Epoch, World Lit. Today and 32 int. anthologies. Honors: 2 Litt.D’s, Emerson Poetry Prize, Poetry Society of America Citation, 9 Pushcart nominations, Swan Foundation Humanitarian Award. Finalist: Walt Whitman Book Award, London’s Troubadour Int. Poetry Prize, among others. Director, USC’s Professional Writing Program (25 yrs)
Hawaii Pacific Review 