i’ve been up for hours.
i was up before the sun. before the roosters screeched hello. before the neighbour’s hungry baby and before the chirping birds in trees above, in trees below. i was up and it was dark as i rode my bike. the street lights turned off, one by one, above my head. my phone was a flashlight, a yellow raincoat kept me dry.
i met her in the darkness at the coffee shop down the road
(you’d love her, you know).
and light took over night and turned the dawn to day.
she ran across the street and picked a bag full of plumerias – her face deep in her task, her smile wide as she raced back to the car. excited and alive.
we reached the beach, its water washed with the sky’s delightful pastel pinks and blues of perfect morning hues.
and then we saw them swimming. off the coast, a pod! so many! babies and mothers and fathers and brothers. families of dolphins jumping and playing.
we swam to join the fun.
we dove, we chased, we played with them, deep in the blue and through the haze of that underwater world.
it’s sunset and we’re all we have. i’ll know it better soon.