This Green

 It was during my pilgrimage to Japan

That I visited Kebara, the birthplace 

Of my mother's father. There, above the rice

            Fields' fertile hallows,

I felt the green of hills rolling over my eyes

Like the green of Sonoma's spring coverings.

Sonoma was where I once sought to settle

            Before Hawai`i's 

Brilliance locked me upon the islands midway

Between my grandparents' graves on the Richmond

Hills and their parents' graves in Wakayama,

            Both green in the spring.

I look upon the burning green of the ridges

Of the Koolaus, wondering what that something

Was that sent me to this place, bright reminder

            Of all this green.