yes

the sun had set

the trees and Morros

the buildings hills and rooflines were silhouettes

                                                                               the New Moon  a brilliant silver cuticle

arched over the charcoal disc of the remaining moon a shaggy palm shines pale ochre

and green against encroaching night

lit from within

Age possesses its own light

  

and this palm had sprouted and been there before the Chinese camped to work at the

White Mans railroad and commerce 

                                                            it was there when Indians passed to trade their

fish seashells and pottery with other tribes and with the religious Spanish and Mexicans

inside its hoary head  barely ever raked or moved by wind

those things it witnessed  and remembers   and perhaps wants to say

is mute

its thatched corrugated trunk is laced by head lights  dappled by street lamps

                                                                 

no one approaches it

 

it hasnt   and cant find listeners

the listeners died long ago

the palm abides Time

it shouldnt be long before a frond falls    attempts murder     and its cut down

as murderers should be

and Memory is

1403,  Twosday,  25  11. 14