Conversation With A Palm Tree

I asked the palm tree, “Sir, do you tire of this in the evening of your day?”
“It is an infrequent opportunity to stand in pure light,” he answered,
“intensity surrounded by softness.  Night comes as a gift to all of us: coyote, rabbit, wide-winged hawk.  We have learned to stand very still in the presence of light, to allow it to surround us, penetrate to the core of our simple existence.  Somehow we are enlivened by the vividness.  But, I, too, would ask a question, of you, Sir.”

“Please ask,” I replied.
“All my friends and I have wondered: Why are people more interested in
speeding to the market rather than standing still in a moment like this?
It seems to us that you are moved more by a sense of urgency than by a feeling of inherent curiosity.  Hawk said the other day, ‘I feel sorry for all those people with their heads down, focused so on destination rather than delight.’  Will you help us understand?”

We stood side by side until the sun was gone and the sky was black.  We stood without another word shared.  And then I got in my car and drove home.