Resort

    non sine sole iris
        (no sight without the sun)

Foam breaking out of green
and then evaporating
into Jello cups of routine
wash, always heading

in limping scuds
towards the empty beach,
limpid, lit by floods
that fade into the reef,

and deeper into sea; yet
we critique these views,
lit no longer by the sunset
but by ruse,

by the world’s demand.
This is the promise
of the sand,
of any place. This

is what we always seek,
these idylls on the shore,
the anchorage we all critique,
the paradise next door.

December 21st, 2015, Kailua