A Mango Fruit’s Story: Survival of the Fittest


Source: Bruce Fong.wordpress.com

Mornings most often is the beginning of a hectic day in construction projects.

This is a given. No matter how meticulous one plans his work – somehow something is just bound to happen, that throws a monkey wrench into a well planned activity.

Every morning therefore, before reporting for work, we made it a habit to have coffee in our small backyard, and in there, list down our activities and appointments for the day.

From this vantage point, we observed the evolution of a mango fruit  in our yard. From its humble beginning as a green flower or bud, it has grown into a full-grown fruit – in a matter of a few months.This flower has grown many miniature fruits, but was naturally pruned from a cluster to just one fruit it is today.

Just for fun, we documented (with the use of a 5 mp cellphone camera) – the saga of the soon to be consumed mango.

Reflection: Does this perhaps mirror the human story itself – that life, despite the embellishment of culture and trappings of urbanity,  is still really a survival of the fittest?

Well no matter, sooner or later (may be by next month), this particular mangifera indica, a.k.a. mango, will end up in my plate.lol.

September 24 - Birth Pangs

September 28

October 3

October 6

October 12

October 23

November 2

December 14 - A lot of green Mangos, and ohh... the power to resist temptation - as these can easily become a snack - if mixed with soy sauce and vinegar!

Now out of the many there's just this one left! Waiting for it to ripen next month perhaps. It shall end in my plate. lol

Rosebud -like

you are

shy yet coy

and playful in the September wind.

 

 

Shyly peeking from beneath,

a foliage of green

your tresses

perk and beckoning.

 

 

Like a call of the wild

it entices and awakened my memory.

Somehow drawing me strongly

to its clutches,

in a whirlpool of fragrant imaginings

it shall forever be.

 

 

But comes this sweet time,

in March of the year, that

in my wild dreams

you shall finally end up in my plate.

 

 

And shall I suck deeply with abandon,

the sweet marrow of your youth,

taste the nectar of your essence.

 

 

Such that once I am fully filled with your

flesh and fragrance,

you shall just be consigned

to the box.

 

 

A sweet and innocent

memory of  youth,

left behind consigned

to forgetting.

As life moves on as usual,

as if in a hazy dream.

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