It sits atop this perch of dirt surveying the encompassing ecology in its languid silvan way.
For many centuries it has sat here patiently regarding the changes of the quick life with which it shares this space.
Under these ancient trees, time slows and all that remains is the steady pulse of life that pervades all within this glade.
Yet to the rock, clutched in this arboreal claw, even the trees are precipitate in their allotted spans.
It is partly for these reasons that our Sapient kind finds peace in such places and our fleeting cares seem as naught under the gaze of these ancient souls and their ineffably wild pondering.
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Photo: Wild olive at Saladaviciosa. Courtesy of the author.