What is Beneath. By Hauoli Kahaleuahi

Rooted, hugged tight by damp, deep, dark soil.

The soil that has grown, developed here,

Generations of speckled, fruitful and

Abundant, fragrant soil, enriched soil.

Shaken by storms, roughed by rainfall, heavy

Heaves of water rush, layering throughout.

Looms night and scatters stars, a full moon shown

To a cultivator, planting begins.

Loved by this soil, a flowery land.

Puakenikeni petals drip from

Tops, branches breathe sunrise dew, alive, well.

Rich `aina, food to feed communities.

Damp, deep, dark soil kisses the kalo,

Rubs right against uala, nurtures ulu,

Wraps fingers, aged and wrinkled, about stems

Stiff and stern, jutted jubilantly up.

Generations trotted, feet and Earth one,

Atop this soil, toes tickled and wet.

Sinking in, smashing down, massaging soft

The spots of future mai`a, sweet delights.

The present, a serene scene, where pretty

Dwells elegantly, poised in perfection,

So delicate yet like warriors strong,

Set in soil, a damp, deep, dark soil.

Mouths whisper “mahalo” to the soil,

Engraving within their gratitude, thanks.

A people born of the soil, risen

Now, though to never forget roots, culture.

Life preserved through this soil, hunger gone.

Praised by the people, damp, deep, dark soil.

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Poem of the Day: Trees BY JOYCE KILMER I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree.