In the Jelly Fish Jar
A zebra dove in the hau tree
speaks of hunger
as the green flash of imagination
rises over Diamond Head.
A palm frond traces
brush strokes in the sand
until a Kona breeze erases all.
White heat and Kilauea's vog descend.
Among the lava rock,
I eat lomi lomi, search for metal
as a box jelly fish lifts.
I write with a cut glass pen
on the way to Ala Wai.
Wild parrots in a dead monkey pod sing.
Linda Buskey LeBlanc