in the time of mango blossom

In the time of mango blossom

pain stabs,

a pale spear

sharp as the scented spikes

that weight the tree

as eager


it awaits


The yearly ritual,

the time of fruit.


Our time was a flower

that bloomed

and withered again.


the seed remained,

dry, insignificant

almost unseen.

And yet—

it held promise

of life

of blossom.

Colour, fragrance

within its husk

The thoughtless wind

tears the flower apart,

scatters its petals.


the seed rides its back.


2 thoughts on “in the time of mango blossom

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s