Silvergreen I have seen Olive leaves dry into old fashioned pen points Fallen so far from silvergreen now they write Their songs of themselves where olive oil anoints Till they turn to soil and rush upward to light Where the cycle is turning and returning To the mother all her children in the end The mother receives what no other could send Through the centuries both of birth and burning Silvergreen Olive trees Are all around where I live and I see them As wise and as somehow comprehending me As if they could be me or I could be them In a similar cyclical destiny Though they always seem wise as they scratch the skies And I am not too certain that I have been But olive trees could comprehend what I mean That I want to be wise like old trees are wise Trees like these In between Olive trees where branches join one another Overhead where underfoot leaves are writing Where all is the cycle all is the mother Here I am where the mother is inviting Having come the hard way of birth and burning The mother receives what no other could send But the mother to her children in the end Where the cycle is turning and returning Silvergreen +Steven Curtis Lance Copyright MMIX