Ode To The Mango Tree

Branches that graze the cheeks 

of the rolling clouds,

full to bare in the summer air,

fire blessed fruit

glass blown into 

juicy ruby, citrine, and jade

gems, with a splash of earth 

To signify they’re ready.

How I would climb your

latticework of leaves and limbs 

to cradle me into your canopy,

I made it for you

whispered the leaves.

Finally alone, headphones in,

pluck a mango, cupping it close to my heart

I sing sorrowful secrets & The tree 

starts to sway with western gales.

the ovaloid skyline rustling

tranquil adagios, beautiful for meditation.

when a Hurricane knocked you into an

arboreal grave across the river sticks,

I remember my dad with his F150 

pulling you back upright.

You gave such succulent fruit the next year,

gratitude masking the memory

of mortality in every bite.

Such a shame to see you now, 

as if you were Hurricane stricken once again--

leaves lashing at dirty stones,

roots reaching for a foriegn sky, 

2x8 keeping you from colliding

with my childhood home.

I shed a tear as I covered your shoots

with sod and grass blankets 

I fooled myself into thinking

weren’t a burial shroud.

If only we had the strength

to right what the winds did wrong.