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Maybe Eat a Mango

 Maybe Eat a Mango The face is glum, the day is ho-hum, When the blues come a-visiting, And the heart feels heavy, When your footsteps are slow, And your mood is low, Maybe eat a mango. Nose sniffing the ripe fragrance, Senses awakening to yellow radiance, As water pours over the mango, A small corner of the soul a-washes, The knife carves out goodness, As it cuts into the mango’s tenderness, With wafts of sweet delight swirling the air. You bite into sunshine, gold, Your heart assumes the softness of the mango, Your face melts just a little, Your eyes unfreeze a smidge, The mango’s glorious taste consumes it all, The blues, the mood, the ho-hum Maybe eating a mango turned the day around.
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Pillows and Planets

 I wonder what it would feel like to look at a planet from a truly massive scale. 

What if I were not but a speck of dust viewing Jupiter? What if I were larger than Jupiter, viewing it? What would that experience feel like?

What if Jupiter was a beach-sized ball floating on a set route in front of me? I could touch it, turn it maybe; watch how the sunlight falls on one side and it’s top, bop its moons with my hand…

What if Jupiter were the size of my head? It could rest on a feathery pillow as it travelled in its orbit. A soft pillow to hold up a weary gas giant until the morn 9.9 hours later so it could become well-rested and continue fascinating us with its existence. 




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