Mango Tree

My mango tree passed on spring flowers to fruit again.
Dad planted this Hayden 60 years ago.
He peeled them, blade against skin.
They hang, green to yellow-red.
We ate most of them when all of us were here,
Only a few wasted then
Then now, the most mature, that over-ripening yellow,
Before the brown rot,
Birds grip stems, peck holes.
I eat maybe ten now.
Most fall to the ground.
I bag them when fermentation and fruit fly swarms
Become too much to bear.
All phases of the fruit’s cycle displayed,
Frame by frame until the last one falls.