The hot nights we loved, twisted in sweat and cotton sheets,
all the time longing for what we have now, cool breezes,
sleeping temperatures below 85 degrees, then just like
that, fall will jacknife into winter, and instead of agonizing
in temperatures that seem to stretch one's ability to cope,
we will rail bitterly at icy howling winds, and how frostbite
nearly set in after getting boots wet while hiking across
that stream;

I wonder how long it will take before we collectively get it,
really see the damage done by our species to our host planet,
such that memories of childhood seasons wash into memory,
water over those flat rocks in clear, cool mountain streams,
and we bury them deep beneath the current crisis, immediacy
of issues too huge to contemplate for long, as so many continue,
hoping, praying for some, that science is dead wrong,
but in our bones, we know it's not, and wherever we are,
we note striking contrasts to what once was;

Too many people for one, all clamoring to live in places
some consider paradise, then another pristine part of the globe
is ruined, trashed quite literally, full to the brim of human
detritus, cast aside along with the worries about one's own
children nevermind grandchildren who will face, one assumes,
much worse, and nothing can cure these nightmarish thoughts,
not alcohol or drugs, not denial anymore, and choices
must change at the most basic level;

City folk thinking that life in the country will be sublime,
then they discover snakes, frozen pipes, distances traveled
just to buy groceries, and disappointment mounts as, in their
frustration, they pack up their hundred thousand dollar rvs
and flood the highways, sixteen miles to the gallon, crossing
and recrossing this US mainland, looking for the next big thrill,
nevermind mounting debt nor a sustainable future, as long
as they can make payments, and this is what the standard
is in this country;

If I long for anything, it is lucidity and sanity in the midst
of what clearly are the strifes and troubles of our world today,
and when I miss Hawai'i, it is mostly her more manageable
landmasses, the beauty and sanctity of Aloha, of a heart
centered people who taught me priorities that made sense:
family, community, music that lilts in context to the place,
food for everyone, always calling me back to the 'aina,
to the breath that synchronizes with ocean tides, to a sane
pace of living that almost matches what one can handle
without fragmenting into a thousand pieces.

Fall day in southern Colorado ~ photo Chris Johnson