Opening my back yard
I find two ripe mangoes
on my doorstep.
I bend to pick them
two more falls
on my head.
Gathering myself
I turn in
to get a basket.
Three more knock
me down. Beaten up
almost everywhere,
I rush to the kitchen
take a big basket, hoping
to collect a basket full
Lo! no more fruits
the tree stays still
I get back with
quarter basket full.
Meenas Poems 