(Poipu Beach, Kauai)

Late afternoons they lumber
out of the sea, their powerful
front legs leaving tire tracks

in the soft sand, to heave
themselves up and out of their
world into ours for a time.

Fifty, seventy, eighty green
sea turtles will arrive one
by one, these solitary

marine reptiles sleeping in
silence, a landed flotilla basking
in companionable proximity—

the 50th state the only place
in the world where honu
do this. No one knows why.

That mystery is what draws
people like us to the beach
before the sun makes its

descent. Hundreds of humans
standing a respectful distance
from boulder-sized beings

terribly hampered by gravity
and weight on land, so graceful
in the sea—the very picture

of peace, as are we gathered
in a giant arc around them,
gentled by the sight of such

compatibility, not a shred
of conflict among the throng,
only wonderment, as we

gaze at them with the fondness
of parents looking at sleeping
babies, as we wait for the day’s

last light to slowly disappear,
so that we, too, can eventually
make our way to our rest.