Wealth
Hundreds of mangos,
burnished with morning sun,
hang thick in the branches
of the tree next door.
The wealth of it!
One perfect mango dangles
from the highest branch,
and though no one can reach it
my poet’s soul is fed
by its ripened flame.
From my hammock vantage,
I contemplate its magic and
the simple sight of it
quiets all my hungers.
But from her yard, my neighbor
hands me a mango, red;
firm and fat and ready.
Rich and blessed, I rise.
In my kitchen, I rub its living skin
slow against my cheek;
thus we caress, this mango and I.
Finally I peel it, reveal it,
holding its juicy gold in my sticky fingers.
Standing reverent over the sink,
I let the nectar, like no other,
drip down my chin, and I taste
the wealth of the mother tree next door.
It feeds my deepest being.
©Susa Silvermarie 2018
Pretty amazing to have mango wealth right next door. And viewing them from a hammock! Nice retirement life. I suppose my relatives back in the midwest would feel the same about my ripened figs. We never saw fresh figs growing up, only those dried and strung, smashed together in a neat package and shipped to Chicago from Greece. I never thought then, as I stuffed those figs with the hazelnuts my grandmother roasted, that at the age of 70, I would have a fig tree of my own.
Love this one Susa!! I’m right there with ya 🙂 In my yard, it’s the fig tree!! And soon the persimmon tree. Ahhhh . . .
OMG what a mind you have to see and feel and taste all that, when probably all I would see is a mango tree full of fabulous mangoes!. xx
Ah! Mangos … I know them from Miami, some years of tree wealth! A beautiful saga.