The Palm

The Palm

New to DC, Wally opens his Palm.

Climbing in DC, beech's my fave:

cross the road to woods, or play

in a creek, or catch salamanders,

crawfish, frogs, once, a snapping

          turtle in our backyard.

Born for DC, later, to Florida: our

backyard's a cliff, falls to a ditch:

floating over the deep green foam,

     across, snake hunters shimmy

          up the other bank's scrub:

     down a ways, this creek dries

into coquina, sharps that bleed me:

while palm features, I can't shinny. 

[sonnet]