I hear the rain against the bamboo leaves

and remember the forest deep in Manoa Valley
where bamboo grows so wide my hands cannot reach around
and the sound of wind moving through them
wakens even the oldest of spirits
I hear the rain and remember too
the walk to the U … bare footed
as my slippers slapped mud up my calves
the pavement was cool
and my heels calloused
I hear the rain
as I have a hundred nights before
but tonight it falls so softly
I can smell the plumeria
and taste the salt in the air..
and I remember when I was but a girl
quiet and unsure
with plans that would never come to be
and wonder
how it is that I am here
listening to the rain.

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