Resting from a Sun-struck Walk in Corfu

There is no shade
like olive shade
made by thick old trees –
gnarled like grandfathers –

It’s a dark green antidote,
backed by dusty silver.

Like the oak, the bark
is carved with life-runes:
We breathed here.
We, travellers, farmers,
owls.

The whole shade is singing
with swallows.
Far away, a rooster
protests noontide.
Beyond the hedge,
a heaviness of cars –

But there’s no shade
like olive shade
pressed by the breeze
from the sea –

Gulls complaining above you
ants in your
neat-placed shoes

And a squillion thin
brown curled dry tongues
of olive leaves
as many, many as sand –

Poem by Madhuri, Corfu, June 2015
Photo by Petra Huber (Ouranos, Arillas)