Napowrimo 16

Just trying not to get further behind! Today, I'm writing about palm trees.

The Valley of Palms

The palm trees along highway 281

Begin popping up just south of Encino,

Their fronds waving hello,

Welcome me home. I sigh with relief –

A regal sabal stands against a slate sky,

A bit of paradise in the brushland,

Just a taste of the magic to come,

As I return to the valley, this place

I’ve learned to call home, like the palm,

Who, as I race south, multiply,

Dig their shallow roots into this soil

And claim it their own, the great-grandchildren

Of palms from the Greece

or Florida or California

Who grow tall and proud,

tower over the nopales,

The mesquite, the huisache.

The palms, like me, are immigrants

To this landscape. Honeybees drink

From the queen palms nectar.

Kisskadees have learned to feast

On dates. The valley welcomes

Us with open arms, a gulf breeze,

A tight hug, a kiss on the cheek.

Like the palms, I’ve found my home.