Coming over the hill this morning,
carefully crossing the Benicia bridge,
was magical, the sunrise was turning
lightening sky and clouds crimson, and the ridge
way across the bridge was still dark
and it seemed like I was entering
a magical city because the lights that mark
the way were starkly contrasting
to the black shore and the grey river.
I thought about who would most
appreciate this beautiful moment and never
doubted that was Mokihana, that lost
girl I used to drive to Waipahu and back,
and for whom I thank the universe daily, in fact.