Olive Blossoms outside Jerusalem (

Garden, by Sharon Rauenzahn

I am the garden. My stone walls
Curve around this hollow
Aside that rocky hill.
After winter’s fallow
My olive trees
Carpet me in yellow and white.
You watched alone that night
Weeping in my bower.
I watched your friends flee
But could not follow.
I’m watching still
In my hillside shallow
My olives growing tall.
Watered by your tears,
They’ll grow for a thousand years.