Mango Tree 2010 Poem

Neath the spreading mango tree, the village poet sits,
And dreams of someplace far away, alone with all his wits.
Where roosters do not crow at night, where food tastes just like home,
Where roads are smooth and flat and clean, where deer and antelope roam.

Where motorcycles and music are not heard in your bed,
Where cats and dogs and horses, need not to be fed.
A loving face, a warm embrace, a truck and one-eyed dog,
K-State playing KU, a friendly burning log.

The largest mango hanging there, weighs in about 2 pounds
And falls from 30 feet above, and goes directly down.
It drops at 20 miles per hour, and quickly finds its mark
Upon the poets cerebellum, then later turns it dark.

Reality has just set in, he is no longer there,
In some wheat field in Kansas, with lots of wind to share.
The poet staggers to his feet, and feels for liquid red,
Or signs of permanent damage, upon his swollen head.

The mango is a tasty fruit, its juice runs down your chin.
But strings that stick between your teeth, and one huge seed within.
The skin is thick, you need a knife, to stick it deeply in,
Then pull it back, insert your teeth, and eat it with a grin.

He sees the mango laying there, so innocent and sweet,
And wonders why his God above, had not made him retreat.
Why the Lord had chosen him, to suffer such a blow?
What had he done to deserve this? Why he did not know.

Why did He not let other fruit, fall from distant limbs?
Why had God let this one fruit, fall straight down on him?
Perhaps he had done something, to bring about God’s wrath.
Perhaps the road he walked upon, was not the proper path.

No matter what the answer is, sometimes we need a jolt.
A painful strong reminder, a celestial thunderbolt.
That we aren’t here forever, we don’t have long to live.
The past is not the present, our bodies are a sieve.

We cannot always be where we, find comfort in our places.
But we can make the best of them, with smiles upon our faces.
And find the fun and love from One, who gave his life for us.
The One who knows where mangos fall, the One whom we should trust.

So bloom where you are planted, and do what you can do,
To make the world a better place, and to your God be true.