To be an olive tree me…

I want to be
rooted and leaning upwards when i go,
like an olive tree,
i, made ancient already
by more urban settings,
and living under too many bridges, having seen
too many faces deeply, too many 911’s in my heart, am
surprisingly, less gnarled
thus far, but want to contain
that ancient elegance of standing true
to the stretching of time,
in blue green glistening, with chimes in my branches!
That, sturdy fluid stillness of olive
tree, i would like to leave here.
Make me an olive tree then, with
The history of the wind of aging
in my bark-that veined story. A tree which looks like it almost
occurred underwater, or within Another hidden place!
Something, no one noticed
was even aging, until it was wise.
Yes, i want to be
an olive tree when i die.