Under Olive Trees Poem by Mohammad Yousef

By Mohammad A. Yousef

In the quiet cradle of the afternoon,
where sunlight spills like honey,
and shadows stretch long,
I find myself beneath the gnarled embrace
of ancient olive trees,
each one a sentinel,
guarding whispers of time,
their silver leaves shimmering
with secrets long kept.

Here, the air is thick with memories—
the laughter of children chasing the wind,
the soft murmur of stories
woven into the fabric of roots,
burrowed deep in the earth's tender skin.
I hear the echo of voices,
a soft cadence of lives intertwined,
a symphony played on the strings of the past.

The bark, rough and weathered,
bears the marks of seasons,
each groove a tale of resilience,
of storms weathered and sun-drenched days,
as if the trees themselves
are living chronicles,
bearing witness to the dance of life
beneath their sprawling canopies.

Beneath the olive trees,
time flows like a gentle stream,
unrushed and timeless,
where the weight of the world
melts away,
and the heart finds solace
in the rustle of leaves,
the sigh of the breeze,
the soft embrace of the earth.

I sit in the dappled light,
where the ground is a tapestry of green,
the air fragrant with the scent of earth,
and I am reminded of the simple joys—
the taste of ripe olives,
the warmth of sun-kissed skin,
the laughter shared over meals
that linger long into twilight.

Here, under the olive trees,
I am both lost and found,
a wanderer in a sanctuary,
where the past cradles the present,
and each moment unfolds
like a petal kissed by dawn.
In this sacred space,
I breathe in the wisdom of ages,
and I am home.

The sun begins its descent,
casting golden hues across the horizon,
and I linger still,
for under these olive trees,
time is but a gentle reminder
that life is woven in the moments,
that the heart, like the branches above,
is meant to reach, to grow,
to embrace the beauty of simply being.