Occasional Wintry Showers

So now eleven are left to stand
On tender rafts in icy seas
And each a Captain ‘Land ahoy’
Steer unpruned sails unto the wind

Protect from bitter winter winds

And 12 parched trunks nobly poke

Through crusty plots with hardy sway

Their aching quiet, despite neglect

Still bare the sprout of willful tears

Dandelion

It would appear the growth I have encountered is not, after all, the shoots of an olive tree.  So my waiting continues..,

There is the This

The throwing of voice

The twists of her tongue

And she,

At once,

Is bleakly funny. Horrah!

Horrah!  To This,

She stands.

 

Today has brought the first signs of an olive tree.

..and when we look at backlit skies, it’s thoughts of you, un-together (because we’re not) but clearly said, as you know too that we can touch with finger tips..,

 

 

The summer is finally here but the olive trees are still.  Each day I water them with a loyal fondness, a soft hope, a gentle smile.  I ask for little, a sprout of life, a friendly wave.

12 olive trees

I have a simple wish and that is to grow 12 olive trees.  These trees are peace offerings.  They are gifts to myself, one for each month of the year. This is the second time  I have tried to do this.  Sadly the first plantings were destroyed by an offshore storm.

So my pathway of olive trees has begun once again.  So far they have not germinated.  They are watered each day and I patiently await their first signals of life.