Arrested by a rest on Maui, sweet
and light and dreamless, eyelids closed and yet
insightful, air caressing neck and feet,
I’d stagger if I tried to stand up now.
I feel I’d would wobble if I tried to move
or talk – this morning I’ve forgotten how
and what I used to strategize to prove.
I’m slowing down to island time, as calm
as if I were immersed in water hot
enough to soften me. Above a palm
is fluttering its fronds, and I forgot
to wonder what to do today, with time,
or worry at the pitches of this rhyme.
Cutterpub 