I hear their going to plant lots of trees on each side of our creek’s walkway a half mile path that now delivers unrelenting heat on anyone walking after dawn and before sunset of course I’ll be an old man, well an older man, an older old man, in the years it will take the trees to link arms above the path and create this dark corridor of relief for everyone for those who don’t live here, how could you have any idea of the summer value of shade? I would happily pay

there is a parasol of shadow along the Tahquitz Creek pathway near Sunrise Way a huge mesquite has joined hands with three Palo Verde trees to create a living umbrella, here’s what I feel under it - quietude, a holy hush a sudden silence too soon I’m through, back into the harsh bright world of sunlight for some reason I never look back the memory is enough as a small reward, a tiny gift for life’s unforgivable nature

I hear rapid Spanish among the piles of green and brown palm fronds it’s the yearly trim of palm trees happening outside my glass slider, when my peace is invaded by chain saws and gloved and dark-clothed strangers they see me, cold drink on a sofa, I wave then one turns, gathers a huge stack of the cuttings, hoists them on a sweat-soaked back and carries them off to the truck I suddenly think of our lots in life, what we were born into, wondering what they think when t