By Peter Halstead

Between the groves of half-lit trees
Dusky on the mauka side,
And makai lurid sunset red;
Between dark rustlings of breeze
And the ocean’s diamond tread

Something’s lost;

Between the waiting brides and widows,
Soldiers and the desperate old men,
Sunstruck boughs and floodlit glows
Foreshadowing the end,

Certain lines are crossed;

Between the sky that carries on
To other sunsets, other dawns,
What we ultimately recollect
Are the things we pawn.

And now in retrospect,
Before the world is gone,
The night itself seems paused
By the summer day it’s wrecked.

RumFire, Waikiki
March 29th, 2012, 6:12–7:16 P.M.

March 30th and April 2nd, 2012