The shadow of the olive tree
That evening,
the shadow of the olive tree
came down from the hill,
where bits of cork
and crumbs of bread
were carried away by ants.
Our revenant embraces,
knotted and dry as wood,
flickered in the ashes of some fire.
Places to go (a chorus whisper)
places to go -
in haste and time.
That evening,
the olive branch was swaying in the wind.
Ants ate the carcasses of doves.