About the Poem
This is a mythical telling of what a palm tree would say if it was dying and didn't know why it was dying. I envisioned it pleading to us humans to help it.
Palm Trees Refrain
|by Rosemary Winters
Yellowing palms set against
the clear blue sky.
Changing from nile green to chartreuse
as their ailments progress.
Is it the sickly air they breathe?
Is it an imported virus?
Is it polluted water?
Or, is it the insane weather pattern?
That is something
only the palms know.
But do they tell?
Never, for they are not physicians.
Can you hear their sighs?
Which flutter softly in the wind.
Caught up in the atmosphere,
softly tinkling their sad song.
"Help us, lest we die,"
so sayeth the palms.
"Hear our plea,"
is their refrain.
"Come to our aid,"
whisper the dying.
Listen to their pleas,
take away their pain.
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