Ode To A Palm Tree



Without the rustle of a palm tree

One might lose the journey

Provided so willingly and cheaply

By the slap of a limb against the window

And the after waves of sound

Like a skipping stone

There is a beach

And music

and the scent of Frangipani  brushing your hair.

2 thoughts on “Ode To A Palm Tree

  1. This poem is perfection. The repeating “s’s” echo the sounds of that soft limb brushing the window. And we are taken to the warm sand and fragrant night. Thank you.

    And I loved the bunion piece! My dear friend Miki wrote a blog post that addresses, in part, how shame gets in the way of our loving and our being present. Here it is, a little gift for you: http://baynvc.blogspot.com/2010/07/slice-of-heaven.html

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