The dreams that found me here induced by others. Temporary rooms where the anticipated inhabitant never returned. We rummage for lost things. As I pack I survey this cottage into which I’ve spilled white coral and cords for charging. My dreams once home again will likely be of hibiscus, blood pink pinwheels, and the Willi Willi bloom stitching the limbs of highway trees - yellow and orange and fading. I will awake to remnant archipelago green; roosters’ wild calls and tea cup sized mourning doves somnolence interrupted by soot black lava reef and north Pacific wind little sips of the narrowing cave of my father’s dementia as we shared nightly dinner visits here. And on the rental lanai, the sun setting above the lucky horseshoe tip of the other side of the island, dropping from brief chimera. There will be rain. (Haiku, Maui, Hawaii, August 2021)