Joshua Trees

Gnarled old women,
holding on to the juices
of life,
watchful sentinels
of silent desert secrets,
holding firm
to a lore lone passed,
yet steady of resolve.
Not acknowledging
changes to the new
nor accepting
or even judging –
absorbing differences
yet protecting
the decrees of
afore gone days.
Old women watching
the passage of time,
held by fragile bonds
to a newer world,
yet never forgetting
a revered past
more precious
with its passing.

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