(Lawai, Kauai)

I come to wade in the protected pool
where waves crash on rocks just outside it,
marveling at all the forms of life—

from the ginormous monk seal parked
like an oceanic zeppelin on the bigger beach
down the road to hundreds of tiny fish
in this ocean nursery.

I stand up to my knees in leftovers of waves
that have come from afar to dash themselves
on the rocks circling this pool like a lei
before careening gently into shore.

I gawk as if I have never seen it—this cove,
these palm trees, the wall of naupaka
with its tiny white flowers behind
the haphazard collection of chunked
lava that protects this keiki pool.

I have sunk my baby toes into sand
here many times. Yet each visit reveals
a new batch of keiki fish, slender and silver,
along with miniature convict tangs wearing
their tiny vertical stripes, so small they
look like wee butterflies nipping at
submerged rocks.

But the gods of abundance are not done
with me yet. As I straighten and lenthen
my gaze, angled on a steep turquoise wave,
a large honu turtle-surfs his way through
his wild world.

And overhead, a large monarch wings by,
reminding me that she, along with all
the other ‘aumakua, are always present,
whether or not my heart’s door
is flung open, if only I am clever
enough to see them.

•••

keiki: child, offspring

‘aumakua: Hawaiian spirit guardians