Just this:

A bowl of Anahola Granola with
plenty of vanilla yogurt atop it,
sprinkled with fresh blueberries.

My jug of tea for drinking
and a soft cushion for sitting
on this deck as the glory of

an at-last sunny morning dawns
and a ruler-straight horizon
neatly separates sky from sea,

a thin ribbon of distant fog
keeping a respectful distance.
This is what I carry with me—

the peace of the Pacific, named
for a calm patch that Magellan
sailed across our nearest ocean,

a blue water view from Casa Pacis,
house of peace, within earshot
of waves meeting earth, eons

of weathered grains of quartz
and fragments of shelled
creatures morphed into this

fingerprint of sand unique
to this beach, on this stretch
of sea from which, they say,

all life on our planet originates.
Even me—here,
just like this.