The olive tree must live as long as age

The olive tree must live as long as age

        and melting time can manage

        notching up seasons like enemies

        guarding years in secret circles

        hard grained beneath soft bark.

        Ephemeral grasses hold no licence to its league.

        Nowhere is summer found more shaded cold

        or winter wind-stopped sits so warm.

        Discarded after picnics past

        or seeded by birds in scant regard for pedigree

        parade their scattered European past

        along the roadside.

        Where they grow out of silence

        into the short sharp scream of cars

        swinging heavy crops

        a profusion of hard round gun-shot fruit

        hooded old green trees where centuries brood

        and swell the small black berries of their blood. 

 These poems are from my new collection IN THE APRICOT DARKNESS (view the cover and contents below in my recent posts). They are now being published individually, daily under 'recent posts' on my blog and will be available shortly as an eBook that can be read online or downloaded for free.