Clouds and Mangoes

When I was younger         I planted a tree
They say , what you plant
is How your life is going to be
I forgot about this tree that I planted,
in My sister's garden
It is nigh unto a quarter century and it bears lovely fruit
                 a multitude of fruit
and they come from all around to take what the Tree gives
 
Now I am older and frailer
and I have never seen that tree nor had that fruit,
                                   I wonder why
succulent, ripe
That aroma unmistakable
slice it and the juices flow, tantalising and sweet
Bite and they flood the mouth,
dribble down the chin,
and Pool on My chest matting Me hairs

Deep inhalations
that smell heady and intoxicating
My lips dry suddenly,
My tongue wetting them
a Fog as a cloud descends and envelops Me
what shall I call it?
what shall I make of it?
 
Hears slowly and harkens to the sound
Is it a clear bell that He hears?
or the slow slide of rocks being moved
aside
as the denizens of the deep come out to hold Him violate
                    nay her