A L O H A !
Everywhere we walk in Waikiki
there are flowers, smiles, hidden patches of green, and quiet gardens to discover. Blossoms drift down on the trade wind breezes, I call it Hawaiian Snow; beguiling to the eye. Thought's train pulls once again into a beautifully peaceful station. . . The song of birds plays filigree, an arabesque, a siren's call. . . All punctuated by the normal sounds of today, rolling in from the boulevard. But look! Around this corner is a trio of living treasure; their music acoustic, burnished, simple, & true. . . . . . so linger beneath the tropical Christmas tree, as Palm looks on bemused, chuckling softly to herself, and dances . . . dances an unconscious hula of her own . . . . .
A L O H A! Cloudia
