Limb From Root

There is an olive tree in
Mouriscas planted when
we first used bronze.
Just a kid.

It grew and gave fruit to
generation after
generation.
Was it freely offered?

Three official churches
and counting, plague or
two. Untold conflict.
But it stayed. Planted.

It has seen the best and worst
in us and I can’t help but
wonder.
Is it happy?

How can it not be like me
and want to rip its roots
from limb and see
something new?