Palms Stain Green

Elan Mudrow

dried leaves garden history ferdinand olivier1

There is a roughness

A quiver, that tells things

The redness of spring cherries

Leaves, autumn raked.

Ears pick up the vibration

Voices attempt to emulate

But, it is the rumbling

Palms search for

The noise is subject to a tilt

A wobble, soft rocking

Oceans become glued in place

Only waves leap up

To embrace the shoreline, littered

With broken shells, agates

Bare feet and seaweed

Who move not by spin alone

Nighttime sand is searched

With the closest flashlight

We women are magnets

We men are magnetized

The land shrinks beneath

Feet insecure, toes curl

Docks built from dunes

Stretch out, onto the curve

The grating nails of wind

Ruffles summer grass

Is a sound never lost

During the length of dry dirt

No blade grows alone

Even if it wants to

Sprouts are wet when bitten

Palms stain green

A dampened grasp plants…

Rows, forming the finite

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