there was to be no poem
no words, no paper, no pen
no ink smudged pinky

just the simple quiet of 500 pieces
forming the sunrise and shadows
of Haleakala national park

but i am so used to daily trusting
my eyes and fingers to perform
i forgot how my mind can wander

so here i am, between the borders
of smoky-purple morning haze
and blinding yellow-white sun

turning words and cardboard bits
in my mind before picking them out
and attempting to fit them together