If the olive tree could speak, the stories it could tell,
of fire and gloom and great sand dunes,
It could hear birds and feel wind.
It could watch fields being farmed, cities being built, and roads being paved.
It would feel kids climbing on its limbs.
It would feel animals burrow under its roots.
Brutal winters, hot summers and beautiful springs and falls would pass.
It would feel its fruit being picked and see its branches being worshipped.
It would have seen great events like Jesus talking in the garden of Gethsemane with his disciples.
It might have seen Egyptians hauling huge rocks up the pyramids.
It might have seen cave men hunting their prey,
Or could it have seen the people building Stonehenge?
But alas, an olive tree cannot speak,