The chopper dives into the crater
of Mt Wai'ale'ale, Kauai,
and time stands still,
only the verdant walls
where white ribbons splash down
the mountain flanks
and etch the curve of the caldera
into crenulated skirts.
The summit wears a continual raincap
made of sheaves of hoary white hair.
Pools carve bright eyelets on the mountain
to watch the sky and weep while
the ocean hammers the reef like a fist.
All that suspended salt wanting water
swirls and dances like ancestors.
Pele's hair covered the mountain
like a cloud mantle when she left
to stoke the fires of the Big Island.
8/5, or 6, /84
(not sure of the date)
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