A canopy of emerald, thick and wide,
Where nature's sweetest treasures love to hide.
The heavy branches bend with emerald weight,
Beneath the summer sun's relentless state.
The Mango hangs, a drop of liquid gold,
With stories of the tropical heat foretold.
While Litchis wear their coats of rubies red,
Before the honeyed sweetness can be spread.
The Guava's scent is drifting on the breeze,
Between the shadows of the ancient trees.
And Jackfruit, giant kings upon the trunk,
In thick and sugary perfume they are drunk.
The Papaya stands with shoulders broad and high,
To reach the burning circle of the sky.
While Lemons offer up a tart surprise,
Reflecting yellow light within our eyes.
A garden not of petals, but of juice,
Where every ripening branch is breaking loose.
To pluck a gift directly from the vine,
Is tasting something holy and divine.
The soil has turned the rain into a treat,
A miracle that's crisp and cool and sweet.
The harvest is a song of sun and earth,
A celebration of the garden's birth.