Where the village road forks,
one prong leading to the main road
the other to a homestead
Three-carob tree stand in noble isolation.
Last night one was hit by lightening
and fell into the arms of the two others.

It is dying leaves are matted and curled,
the tree is greying,
slowly taking the colour of soil
and it will bear no sweet pods this year.
In death it still looks regal,
it had the good fortune to fall amongst by friends.