An olive branch gets shaken down.
Olives fall upon the tarps
That have been laid out on the ground.
The olives get the squeeze,
And virgin oil of the highest purity flows.

And I am falling unprepared,
But I feel free, and I'm not scared.
I hear the branch and it's clattering leaves
Call out to me,
"O live! O live! O live!
Live and write your poetry!"

-jenn