Olives

Meet me at the olive tree.

It’s near the deepest well.

The fruit of the tree draws

it’s worth from deep 

in the Earth. 

Perhaps the sour

taste of the purple bead

is drawn from my thoughts 

of you. 

If I consume enough

the deep thoughts 

will be forgotten. 

Perhaps the sour 

taste is from God’s own thoughts.

And the tree, 

unassuming in appearance,

is him extending it’s branches to us. 

And there is no room for more.

The purple beads can only get 

so sour,

before rotting. 

---

© Leilah Bhyat 2020

---