Bumblebees floating
with their winged sails,
like yellow yachts
on Pacific trails.
Each island we meet, a delicate flower
and all the atolls make up their florets
beautiful and estranged yet,
honey Sun melts into the inlet.
And the mainland hive is so far away,
is what I traded for cyan skies
crystal water, liquid aquamarine,
marine masseuse is smooth saline.
Flower to flora
and off the coast
from vapid vices
to something more.