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At The Hotel's Hospitality Room, 1
Not just the pleasant flight across the skies,
nor our hotel room's lofty balcony;
not just the view of mountains, or the rise
and fall of tides, moon-summoned, rhythmically;
not just escape from work's insidious reach
and from the supervisor's chilled abuse;
not just the warmth (instead of humid heat)---
all these are preparatory to no less
than glory of a vision's poetry:
my Lady, casual in her long sundress,
and gladly eager to slip off her shoes
(mere sandals) for a walk across the beach,
the sand pristine beneath her stockinged feet.
And all Hawaii is made Paradise.
