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