Mango Poem Harvest Abroad We Wander From

Mango Poem

Harvest Abroad

We wander from market to market

For the whole of one day

The sweet resin smell

Hanging heavy with May

The season is upon us

When shops come alive

And villagers and tourists

Collectively arrive

So we push through the people

Papa holding my hand

And furrowing his brow

Wandering from stand to stand

Picking up one mango

Putting it down

Sniffing at this one

Then turning it round

Then he places it back

In the barrel and sighs

While an impatient shopkeeper

Gives us the eyes

Since coming from India

To the Bahamas for work

My father has developed

A permanent smirk

For when comes the season

That mangoes grow ripe

We go search for Alphonsos

But find only a gripe

"Too popular," they say

"Not enough around."

"Nonsense," says my father

"They can be found."

My brothers would laugh

Father was a fool

They'd settle for Dasheri

They's eat the Chausa too

But not these for father

"Alphonsos are best."

He'd often explained

Pounding his chest

I being younger

And adventurous as well

Would follow my father

Wherever they'd sell

But even the Alphonso

He always explained

Was not the same thing

His expression was pained

The taste is just different

It just isn't as good

There was only one mango

That our family should

Let into its home

Adorn its from door

Slice into chutney

Or panna to pour