Manoa---Christmas

also for Nancy and Bob Baird

Impact of silver!
Across Manoa valley
The wires spill
Out of slow light
And return quietly
To the poles of their other world.
Drifts of white mist collect
Swirled low among the ironwoods.
Wet grass, wet fern blades,
Wet stems, wet poinsetta leaves.
So still, this water silver
That makes the limbs wet.
Less than an hour since
We left the soft path printed
With our footsteps
And entered the mist.

　

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