freshly washed hair
scent of the wind
rushing past

new to the islands
she sniffs
the hibiscus

war jitters
brush-stroked hollyhocks
stand at attention

so many stars
through the pruned grapevine
the buzz of mosquitoes

dawn
I come face to face
with a mountain

maple shade —
young girls follow their recipe
for mud pies

open drawbridge —
counting the masts
of ships unseen

twilit path
a tarantula
lifts a leg

first light
I pretend to shave
my son’s lathered face

Monday morning —
a flaw in the shadow
of the sugarbowl