By Julie Sullivan

Who made the world
Who made the mango trees and the parrots
Who made this mango tree

Whose branches bend under the heavy weight of green mangoes that hang heavily above my head like big green teardrops ready to fall.

Who made the parrots
the ones who arrive each morning squawking about the new day to roost in the mango tree I see from my bedroom window.

The green ones who leave each evening flapping and squawking their warning about evening.

Their wings flapping and showing a flash of red under their wings as they soar above my head
I get a glimpse. like a little girl showing off her red underwear on the swing.

I don’t know exactly what prayer is, but I do know how to face the sun as it rises and feel the cool breeze caress my face.

I know how to be still and notice.

How to admire all of creation and be hopeful and patient as life unfolds before me like a mango slowly turning from green to yellow.

I know how to listen to the ocean crashing on the rocks and imagine the colors of the fish swimming over the coral reef. I know how to watch the baby turtle make its journey across the sand only to be swept away by the next wave. Doesn’t everything ripen and fall too soon.

Tell me what will you do with your one wild and precious life.

Julie Sullivan is from Baltimore, Maryland where she taught reading at a private school for many years. Before moving to Huatulco in 2022, she lead a poetry and creative writing group called Women With A Story. This poem was inspired by Mary Oliver’s Summer Day.