The arboretum blooms into
red hibiscus, yellow oleander,
and opens to a beach
where barefoot children
spin cartwheels,
toss frisbees through the balm
in whatever colors can be caught
Their kites twist in trade winds
full of shouts and laughter,
the sound of the surf cresting
onto the sand,
and the bark of a mythical dog
spiraling into the air
with its nose to the sky
For a short while doubt is suspended
in ocean breezes soothing bare skin
Way out there an orange sail
bounces steadily on white caps,
giving me reason to think
maybe, just maybe,
there are moments
when the world is not
mean and ugly,
and time’s a seabird feather
letting down easy