Palm Trees
To be swayed by the wind
and yet remain standing --
your grace is mending
my thoughts: how I have legs
of those size but are plagued
to take a step, to go
with the flow of gushing air
That invisible push
you resist from the roots
and you grip the earth
without mashing its crust.
My world is made of dust
and the wind sings the sound
about us on the ground
blown to wander, lost
and without roots.
