For many long years we sat, in the shade
Under the branches
Of a vast and ancient fig tree
That stood
On the edge of a sea-facing cliff,
With a stiff wind which swept the side
Of the cliff faces and caught the leaves
Like a million small sails
In a north-westerly breeze.
And in the shade where we
Waited with baited breath for the
Three wandering ships they say were
Lost at sea long ago
To appear with destined symmetry,
Mastheads rising from a fine line horizon,
Sending signals to shore
Of their shared destiny.
And we, with unfolding hearts had seen
Their intended course and vector
Towards the ancient fig tree