Under the Tree
by Denise Levertov
Under an orange-tree --
not one especial singular
orange-tree, but one among
the dark multitude, Recline
there, with stone winejar
and the sense
of another dream
concentration would capture --
but it doesn't matter --
and the sense
of dust on the grass, of infinitesimal
flowers, of
cracks in the earth
and urgent life
passing there, ants and transparent
winged beings in their intensity
traveling from blade to blade,
under modest orange-tree
neither lower nor taller
neither darker-leaved nor aglow
more beneficently
than the dark multitude
glowing in numberless lanes
the orange-farmer counts, but
not you -- recline
and drink wine -- the stone
will keep it cold -- with the sense
of life yet to be lived -- rest, rest,
the grass is growing --
let the oranges
ripen, ripen above you,
you are living too, one
among the dark multitude --
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~