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Two Aloha-shirted Hawaiians 
of generous girth were strumming 
their ukuleles 
on a small stage in front of the hotel’s poolside bar
in the late afternoon, 
rehearsing for the night’s performance. 
It must have been the low season,
as both bar and pool were deserted. 
and the singer, unburdened 
by a leis-laden audience’s 
Mai Tai-soaked expectations,
was going through a mele 
as if trying it on for size,
his voice loose-limbed with an easy grace.

Wrapped in the ukuleles' lolling strains,  	
his falsetto notes tumbled out into an 
uncongested airspace,
where no ceiling formed by small talk, disjointed laughter 
or tinkling glasses impeded their progress,
so they unfurled their wings, 
lifted themselves into the hibiscus-brushed breeze,
and climbed,
hopscotching and frolicking on their ascent,
skipping from Tiki torch to treetop to balcony.
Some straggled, loitered on windowsills.
Some, afraid of heights, fluttered back down  
to rest on top of beach umbrellas 
next to shadows of palm fronds. 
Still others hang-glided out over the sand 
and the lapis water,
lured by the marigold light.

So that, when they alighted on my 
hotel room balcony ten floors above, 
they were fragments,
excerpted by the intervening air  
from the upflowing cascade into 
a broken yet voluptuous murmur,
a soft, lilting South Seas benediction 
floating around my head.

I’d just sat down in the balcony chair, alone, 
my wife being inside the room busying herself 
with the correct placement of luggage 
after we’d checked in.

And so it was that I found myself looking out 
at the beginnings of a sky-painting Maui sunset 
accompanied by air that quietly sang.

Maybe it was my senses unwinding 
after the bustle of the journey, 
or maybe it was simply that I was caught unawares, 
but the feeling of contentment, 
the almost Zen-like awareness of the here and now,  
that overcame me at that moment was something 
no convergence of sights and sounds 
has been able to reproduce in the 20 years since.

It was, to be sure, an experience I’d paid more than 
a negligible amount of money for.

The irony is that it was the first time 
I truly understood the simplicity of happiness.

Mahalo.
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