Beautiful, Fragrant Rot (In Acapulco)

Mangoes.
Fallen.
FAT from juice.
Too heavy for the branch.
Too late for the picker.

But not too late for my noticing.
And celebration of it.
And now, yours.

Nothing wasted.

Sometimes I play hopscotch over splattered mangoes walking these streets! If you like quirky, contemplative, always-real content, follow me!

Brought to you by SativaYoga -- restorative media, for ungovernable minds. Dig it? Resteem it. Support it.