In the Jelly Fish Jar

A zebra dove in the hau tree
speaks of hunger

as the green flash of imagination
rises over Diamond Head.

A palm frond traces
brush strokes in the sand

until a Kona breeze erases all.
White heat and Kilauea's vog descend.

Among the lava rock,
I eat lomi lomi, search for metal

as a box jelly fish lifts.
I write with a cut glass pen

on the way to Ala Wai.
Wild parrots in a dead monkey pod sing.

Linda Buskey LeBlanc