Almost Home

In the middle of a monsoon

with my eyes pressed down tight

gulping in moist mellow lungfuls

of saturated air

I am almost


home where

the air is pregnant with dew

painting the land vivid and fertile

a green unknown by desert dwellers

and washing my soul.

Gusts of wind buffet my face

but I can almost


reign them in to become

a gentle persistent ocean breeze

welcoming me back with a kiss

breathed across left and right cheekbone.

But no matter how tightly

I press eyelashes against wishful cheek

I can never


transform the sharp tang of creosote

after an afternoon thunderstorm

into the rich heady aroma of

plumeria thick with a

new morning’s tears.



Photo Credit: Plumeria by TANAKA Juuyoh on Flickr; used under Creative Common License 2.0.





    • I remember. You connected with Hawaii instantly, my dear. One day, when we’re old and gray (so not too long now, hahaha), we should take a trip back together. A crotchety old ladies trip. We will drink in the scent of plumeria and dance in the rain!


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