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.
lucindaw.wordpress.com 
I am so glad I stopped by and checked you out. A beautiful poem! Keep writing!
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