mangoes don't fall far from the tree

 of father, and daughter

apples may not fall far from the tree,

seems to me, mangoes don’t either,

in the heart of Barbados

a man lived his life,

with full attention

to the centering and grounding of place,

his beloved island home,

the way beauty, and tragedy, and enduring hope,

could allow him and his other half

to build and maintain a home

where children could be allowed,

even demanded, to be their best selves,

to realize their ignorance and remedy it with learning,

I never met Trevor Howard,

but I know him through the mango

with whom I work,

a daughter devoted to learning and others,

one who makes it her life’s work

to see middle schoolers, to know them,

to help us all find how best to support them

in their efforts to break through 

the crusts that try to hold them back,

she who honors her father

in devotion to the next generation,

to the joy that learning well and truly

gifts to any who can find the way forward,

I love how much I can know and honor the father

by seeing his light shine

in the fire he worked to kindle in his daughter,

she who maintains that blaze well.

by Henry H. Walker

April 25, ‘22