(for the dancers of the Merrie Monarch Festival)

They look like floating clouds
wearing yellow lei, the dozen

wahine of He’eia dancing
nahe nahe—gently, delicately,

as they say in the islands
where I will fly in the morning,

paying tribute to the goddess
of snow in the place where

so many talented dancers have
competed in recent days.

I have sat before the small screen
deep into the night watching,

sometimes weeping at aloha
in motion, tributes to Hawaiian

family and teachers—
ohana and kumu—

by the men and women—
the kane and wahine—

whom I will carry as I fly,
looking out the window,

watching the storytelling clouds
dancing so high in the sky.