Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet of Rain & Harvest to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
Down the lane at the end of June, where the mango branches bow,
I gathered up my basket, and I filled it, row by row.
They were blushing gold and crimson, with a scent like summer wine,
And each one, when I held it, had a weight that felt divine.
I sat beneath the tree and peeled the fruit with a little knife,
And the juice ran down my elbow in a river full of life.
It tasted of the sunshine and the rain that made it grow,
And of every patient morning and the winds that come and go.
I carried home the basket, and I shared it with the street,
For a mango tastes the sweetest when it's shared with those you meet.
So here's to fruit of summer and the joy its sweetness brings,
To sticky hands and laughter, and the sun on golden things.
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Commentary
A basket of ripe mangoes carries the whole taste of a summer. The poem picks them, peels them and then does the sweetest thing of all with them, which is share them.
“Down the lane at the end of June, where the mango branches bow,” the speaker fills a basket “row by row.” The fruit is “blushing gold and crimson, with a scent like summer wine,” and each has “a weight that felt divine.” Under the tree, the speaker peels one, and “the juice ran down my elbow in a river full of life.”
It “tasted of the sunshine and the rain that made it grow.” The speaker carries the basket home and shares it “with the street,” for “a mango tastes the sweetest when it’s shared with those you meet.” The poem toasts “sticky hands and laughter.”