Where The Green Olives Lie Poem by Shobana Gomes

O Master of the fields
Walk past thy vineyard free
Thy steps emblazoning thy path
Of the vineyard where the green olives lie

O Age of all fruits
and Age of all trees
I beset thy ripened wine
I once was enraptured by thy trees

Grown into leaves of green
I grudge thee thy olives bright and free
Awaiting greedy hands that lean
to pick thee from thy safe sanctuary

O Master of the fields be I
My task once over by my time
I lay those vineyards for all the world to see
And suckle on those fruits divine.