Monkey in the Tree

There is a palm on Olive I love to pass along my way. I like to believe there is a monkey in the tree. The long old fronds hang down and scratch against the trunk in the breeze. They only seem to move as I pass along away, like startled monkey scurrying in the tree. Though I know it's really just me, every time I pass I have to look to see if I can see the monkey in the tree.