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Just a Star

An olive tree can live a thousand years,
Drawing its silver leaves and oval fruit
From stony terraces, fretting the wind
In registers of sun-inflected shadow.

But we, my love, who count the terraces
Rising to meet the stories of the sky,
Who cultivate the olive groves, who hear
The interruption in the trees as music

And weep responsive to those minor chords,
Can live only a century, no more.
Although I love you, you are just a man,
And the great silver sun is just a star.

Emily Grosholz

The Stars of Earth: New and Selected Poems
Word Galaxy Press

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