Transfigured

Today an orange world at dawn
Where waters drown the lawn,
Sprinklers and combers flung
Alike on shore:
Spume whorls around
The terrace floor,
Fetch whistles from the dark –
The sound of far-off moons.
Wind pours into the room,
Our treehouse lofted on the roar.
We float on air, on sparks
Rising from the homespun
Sheet of mandarin
That vapors all the sun,
Until the skin weakens,
Ingratiates its fissions
With the amber dunes
Of sand and froth,
And the stain of waves,
The holocaust of rain,
Gives way
To steady garlands
Of the lucid day,
Settles down,
And, safe and vast, behaves.

March 6th, 2026, 7:00–7:40 AM, Kaiholu