Sandy Beach 1963

Once again the ocean
Comes alive with sun,

Without demands or friends,
And in front of me, no ends:

Just salt blowing from the waves
And its sun-prone slaves

Lying on the brink with me,
And see-through mist, and sea,

With clatter in the trees
And future on the breeze.

Promise everywhere, no past:
The horizon guaranteed to last –

My life to date in panorama:
Coppertone and kadama.

No memories or guilt –
Just suntan stuck with silt;

My predestined youth ignored
In favor of a boogie board;

So early in the world that games
Like frisbee have no names,

The ocean summer floating free,
Our lives made only out of what we see:

No prophets to deter us,
Only light and skimming cirrus

Unattached to later things:
A turquoise sandbox without strings,

A distant cloud above a shoal
The flapping summer’s only goal,

And now, the same air swirling round,
The same farsighted sound.

But forty years removed from then,
The dream comes in to focus when

Tomorrow is today: because
When I look back at it, it was.

January 19, 2003, Sandy Beach, Oahu
April 10, 2025, Kaiholu