Day 37B - Haiku, anyone?

Banana tree leaf

Washed in moonlight and dew;

soft, cool suppleness.

This morning, with the moon bright and direct overhead, I saw my banana tree as if for the first time. I touched one leaf, felt its softness, held it over my head and scrutinized its internal anatomy outlined through moonbeams, let the dew from the underside trickle down my arms, rubbed the silky smoothness against my face. I realized its enormity.

In a month or so, North Florida will experience its first frost of the season, and my banana tree will die. I'll hack the dead stalk down with my machete and drag it to the forest to decompose. It will never bear fruit, but next spring, without fail, it will re-sprout from its stump and begin the cycle all over again.

If I ever end up in a loony bin, it might be because someone caught me petting my banana tree. I looked crazy but I felt completely sane.