Overhanging date palms, sagging, drooping,
Speckled and dappled, lacy shadow-fingers shade the sand,
Gifts of life, bent and burdened with a fulsome juice,
Pregnant with creation, a golden dynamism.
Who are we to plunder this desert manna
When clearly it’s designed to split and
Spill its burden upon the desert floor?
Interwoven branches, lattices of diagonal fronds,
Cradle and couch the bronzed, bunched and brazen dates,
Tunnels of shadow beckoning at the center,
Bursting with life and liquor, teasing the desert.
Mirrored dates, rounded reflections on the sand,
Twice refreshing, supported by shadows and seeds
An oasis of sacrificial children, offered to the sun.