Constellations sing and play along

The light was leaving;

in the west it was blue.

The children's laughter sang, skipping just like the stones they threw.

Their voices echoed across the waves.

It's getting late.

It was just another night

with the sunset and a moonrise not so far behind

to give us just enough light to lay down underneath the stars,

listen to Papa's translations of the stories across the sky.

We drew our own constellations.

The west winds often last too long,

and when thay calm down, nothing ever feels the same.

Sheltered under the Kamani tree, waiting for the passing rain.

Clouds keep moving to uncover the sea of stars above us,

chasing the day away to find the stories that we sometimes need.

Listen close enough,

all else fades, fades away.