When the last guava falls

When the cool winds come
And the heavy rains fall
When young and old sing their songs,
Play their tunes, and dance for all,
When swings are silent
And the walls are bare,
When the last guava falls
You know summer is near.


This is the guava tree that grows in the elementary playground. I walk under it every time I head towards the center of campus. It’s a tall tree so I don’t look up in it very often – at least not until the middle of May when the sidewalk beneath my feet becomes strewn with squelched guavas.

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