Dwarf Palmetto

by Rhonda Waterhouse

Hail the scissor-fingers spiked with sunlight,
azureous emerald armor, diminutive yet durable,
understory of giants: live oak/bald cypress/longleaf pine.
Hear wind-sound like rustling paperback covers.

Sabal minor endures wet or dry, sandy or loamy,
virgin forest/swamp/lowland/flood plain/suburban sprawl,
dawdles to burgeon—underground stalks with bountiful leaves,
unless in standing water, where it sprouts a truncated trunk.

A lady’s fan, as tall as me, displays pale pollinator-favored flowers,
leaves that braid/basket-weave/thatch/doll-make,
purple-black fruits devoured by robins and raccoons.
Here’s to the smallest and hardiest of palms!


RHONDA WATERHOUSE holds an M.Ed. from Penn State and is an MFA candidate at UNC Wilmington. With essays published in Black Warrior Review and American Submariner, her current project is a memoir about brain injury and how trees helped her find a new self. She writes about disability, gender, and nature.