A Wild Surmise
She sees the shadow of her wish
surrender to the daylight hour,
illusive, like the Kona wind,
fickle as the summer kiss.
Why will the light that falls and breaks
stay but briefly with our praise?
Why so rudely snatch our dream
and trample on our tender ways?
Does the Shaper of our task
also shape the games we play,
direct the wayward wind in flight
and set surprises in our path?